


Rise of Darkness

by Madriddler



Series: Darkness Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Collars, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Dom Draco, Dom/sub, M/M, Mentor Voldemort (Harry Potter), Sequel, Sub Harry, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: Sequel to Submission to Darkness. After being used as pawns by his old Mentor, Harry and Draco plan to wipe out the Death Eaters, however little do they know that Voldemort still has plans for the teens, and when all is done, Harry must choose between saving a dying light, or allow the rise of Dark Magic to flood his world. Meanwhile, Ron and Theo fight their own sides and emotions as they find love and domination across the war.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Fred Weasley/George Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fred Weasley/George Weasley, Theodore Nott/Ron Weasley
Series: Darkness Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605112
Comments: 13
Kudos: 139





	1. Aftermath

Rise of Darkness

Chapter 1

Aftermath

Harry Potter, now recently married, was laying in bed, looking at his boyfriend, no, his husband Draco Malfoy. It was strange, to be so young, only fifteen, and having a husband. The memories of the night before floated through his mind. A wedding that neither wanted, having their relationship being used as pawns for the Dark Lord’s plan, and Harry’s outrage to all of it. It has been a long, eventful half year Harry thought, from that night in the graveyard to Lord Voldemort himself teaching, and later adopting him. It was his fall to the Dark Arts, his only route to his love, Draco Malfoy, at least that was he thought. And though Harry did not regret a thing he did, he knew that his work was far from done. Sighing, he turned on his bed to watch the older teen sleep across of him. “I refuse to accept their ideology,” Harry whispered. The ideology of the Dark Lord and his followers, a belief so full of hatred and bigotry that it made Harry sick. He will end it all, he will use all he has learned to destroy this ideology. He has to, not only to protect himself, but to protect his new family, his Dominant and love of his life.

But how? Frowning, Harry sat up slowly, so as not to wake Draco up. That would be the hard part, Harry figured. How he will have his revenge. Lost in thought, Harry did not hear movement from behind him, until he felt Draco’s hands on his shoulders. “You okay?” he asked.

“Huh? Yeah just lost in thought,” Harry said. “I feel I’ve made everything worse last night.”

“Maybe, but then again it is you, Harry,” Draco shrugged. “When ever will your life not be complicated?”

“When this is all over,” Harry answered seriously. Draco sighed and shook his head, “That was supposed to a joke, love,” he said. He moved so that he was sitting next to Harry and pulled him onto his lap.

“You’re thinking of how we’re going to kill your father’s followers, aren’t you?” Draco asked.

“Yeah but this doesn’t invo—”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence, I will make you regret it Harry,” Draco threatened. “We’re married now, I love you and you are my submissive! Under law and the Clause, you will do everything I tell you to. As such, you will involve me in this plan of yours.”

Harry moved to argue but Draco’s hand quickly moved to cover his mouth, pressing firmly. “Am I understood, _boy?_ ” he asked. “Nod for yes.”

“Good boy,” Draco smirked. He removed his hand and stood up, stretching in front of Harry. “I think we should figure out what we should do before we are forced back to our dreary reality in Britain,” he said. “And that is something I will not do on an empty stomach.” He snapped his fingers and two house-elves appeared. Draco turned to them and, much to Harry’s surprise, ordered them in perfect French. They disappeared with a loud crack like the crack of a whip and Draco turned to Harry. “Shall we get dressed, then?” he said.

Harry looked around, then down at himself, realizing that he was still in his wedding suit. “Yeah,” he said, “But I doubt you have clothes here that’ll fit me.”

“Then we’ll find the closest thing,” Draco said. “We only need something for today.” He stepped to Harry and reached towards his clothes. “May I?” he asked.

Harry nodded. Slowly, Draco started to undress Harry, a pile of his clothes growing on the floor next to them. Smaller than Draco, Harry stood wearing only his underwear, his nipples hard and the hints of muscles showing. Draco smiled and leaned down, kissing Harry’s neck and chest, leaving small bites and licks as he go. “Go shower,” he ordered, “I’ll look for clothes while you get clean.”

“You trying to say I smell, Malfoy?” Harry said with an uneasy smile. Draco glanced up and gave Harry’s chest a long lick, moving up past his neck until their lips met, Draco’s tongue shoving into Harry’s mouth and claiming dominance.

“Yes Malfoy,” Draco chuckled, “something like that.”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled genuinely, “Okay then, Sir,” he said in a teasing tone, “I’ll go get clean for Master now.”

“Good boy,” Draco said, patting Harry’s butt. Harry chuckled and followed Draco to the bathroom. While Harry cleaned himself, Draco took his time looking through the clothes stored in his summer room, pulling out shirts and pants that looked like they might fit Harry. He found an old sweater that might look good on Harry, as well as a pair of pants that looked as though Harry would wear. Draco thought for a moment about underwear, and smirked to himself as he only pulled out an undershirt for Harry, but no underwear. For socks, he just chose a random pair. Harry stepped out moments later, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked at the clothes, which Draco has laid out on the bed, and frowned. “Where’s the underwear?” he asked.

“You don’t need it,” Draco said, moving to the bathroom. “Get dressed while I shower, food should be here soon,” he ordered. The door closed behind Draco, and Harry obeyed, dressing in the clothes Draco has chosen. He felt awkward that there was no underwear, but the pants did not itch or irritate him, so he guessed it was fine.

A couple minutes later, house-elves appeared and began to prepare a small table with two sets of plates, chairs, and food. As he approached the table, the house elves disappeared. Alone, Harry decided to sit down and wait for Draco. The blonde stepped out of the bathroom minutes later, already dressed surprisingly. He made his way to Harry, kissed his cheek, then sat down across of him. He looked down at the food then said, “This should be better than anything you can get in Britain, Harry.”

Harry just nodded, suddenly feeling ravenous. He took a bite of eggs and let out a moan, it was actually really good, not as good as Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, but he wasn’t going to tell Draco that. Both boys did not speak as they ate, lost in their own thoughts. It was only when their plates were first empty, did Draco said, “How did you plan first to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “The Killing Curse maybe?”

“Can you even use that spell?” Draco asked. “As in, can you even kill with it?”

“Once,” Harry said. “I was angry… very angry. I… I didn’t feel myself.”

“When,” Draco paused before asking cautiously, “when was it?”

“When Voldemort recruited me,” Harry said. “I killed Wormtail.”

Draco was silent for a moment, “So that is what happened to him,” he muttered to himself. He shook his head, “Its nothing,” he said. “Anyway Harry, I think it would be better if we use something more… reliable.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“A poison perhaps,” Draco suggested. “That way, we do not need to be anywhere near them when they die. They just need to have one tiny sip, and their deaths are imminent.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Draco!” he gasped, all but leaping over the table to hug his lover and now husband. “That’s a great idea!” he grinned. “But what poison to use? Voldemort taught me some, but they’re all instant and mostly traceable.”

Draco thought again, pulling Harry into his lap and petted his hair. “That,” he sighed, “I do not know precisely, however I have a feeling to know where to look.”

“Oh really?” Harry asked, “Where is there? Surely not Knockturn Alley, we’ll be recognized instantly.”

“No, no, there is a place here in France, the French version of Knockturn Alley, if you would,” Draco said. “It is called, _Ruelle Nocturne,_ or in English, Nocturnal Alley, I know, bit of an obvious name, but not as obvious as Knockturn Alley and it’s pun.” He rolled his eyes and smiled at Harry. “Nobody will recognize us there. All they will see is a man and his husband.”

“Oh really?” Harry asked, getting a teasing tone, “and which one of us is the man?”

“I am of course,” Draco said, pinching Harry’s nipple through the shirt. “Now be a good husband and get ready, I have shoes of almost all sizes, find your size and put on the pair you like.” He gestured towards another door that Harry did not notice. He got up, jumping when Draco slapped his butt playfully, and gasped when he opened this new door. As Draco said, there was shoes of every size and style the Malfoys would deem acceptable to be seen in public in. Harry spent a few minutes looking for shoes that most closely resembled his old shoes but finding none he decided on what felt most comfortable.

When both were ready, Draco took Harry’s arm and led him out of the bedroom. The summer house was far bigger than Harry had ever imagine, however he did not have time to look around as Draco brought him to the nearest fireplace where a gold carrier held floo powder. “Hold onto me, boy,” Draco commanded, taking a fistful of floo powder and both stepping into the immense fireplace. Throwing it onto the floor, Draco yelled out clearly, _“Ruelle Nocturne!”_ and as the green flames surged up, Harry felt the familiar spinning sensation of traveling through fireplaces.

When the spinning stopped, Harry saw that they were in a café. He stepped out and looked around as Draco brushed soot off their clothes. It was a lively place, tables full of witches and wizards huddled close to each other, their private conversations mulling together to a loud, singular noise that Harry couldn’t pick out from. He felt Draco take his hand and pull, “Come on,” he said, “business first.”

Harry nodded and allowed Draco to pull him out of the café, the blond nodding to a very handsome man on the way out. They stepped into a cloudy street with large shops pushed against one another, streetlamps still lit as witches and wizards dressed in heavy cloaks shouldered their way to and from the various shops. It somehow seemed a happier place than Knockturn Alley, in Harry’s opinion. The shops were all colorful instead of the moody greys and blacks that the shops in Knockturn Alley shared, and the people were talking with each other in quick French, instead of having the solemn, suspicious shifty-eyed silence and look that the wizards who frequent Knockturn Alley usually have. Even though he couldn’t read the names of the shops, Harry found his eyes wandering like the first time he entered Diagon Alley, looking at all the colorful shops.

They stopped at a perfectly normally looking bookstore, much to Harry’s surprise, and Draco held the door open for him. “Obviously I’ll do the talking,” he said. He glanced at Harry for a moment, “Hold still,” he commanded. Draco pressed his wand against Harry’s neck. He felt a thick leather wrapping around it, before resting comfortably. Smirking at it, Draco pocketed his wand, “There,” he said.

“A collar?” Harry asked curiously, “why?”

“The owner likes them,” Draco said, “he is.. much more manageable if he sees a person wearing one. Now, be a good boy and let me do all the talking.”

Harry shrugged an ‘ok’ and followed Draco further inside. It was darker on the inside. The walls were painted a dark green, with candles flickering on black sconces between bookshelf upon bookshelf of books. Hanging from the ceiling was a small lamp, shining oddly brightly. The books were all sectioned in French, and in front of them was an impressive display of dark objects that took Harry’s interest. A man’s voice shook him, as he looked up to see a burly man walk towards them. He was speaking French, and Harry was never so relieved to have Draco next to him as he did in that moment. The blonde took charge, replying in French, and pulled Harry to his side after a comment, showing a clear ownership with his body language. The man’s black eyes fell upon Harry’s face, lingering down to his collar when a smirk appeared. He made a comment to Draco, who shared a grin and patted Harry’s butt, “Go look around babe,” he said in English, “the potions books are over there.”

“What did you tell him?” Harry asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Draco said.

Harry gave Draco a look but relented. He went to the bookshelf Draco pointed him to and was amazed to see that the vast bookshelf had editions and copies of books in various languages. He could not remember seeing any book in Spanish or French or even Japanese in Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. Without any real plan of organization, Harry browsed the bookshelf while Draco talked with the shop owner. Harry pulled out books every now and again, leafing through the contents but never finding a potion or poison that he liked. He did not know how lone he was looking through when Draco approached him.

“Found anything baby?” he asked.

“No,” Harry said.

“Well, good for us, I was able to sweat talk the owner,” Draco said, glancing back, “he somehow thinks we’re in our twenties, looking very youthful, and while it was disgusting, he just wanted to watch you browse his wares.”

Harry frowned, “And how is this good?” he asked.

“He had a secret collection,” Draco continued, “and after some talking, he showed it to me.” From his back, Draco pulled out an old looking book with a thick heavy black leather cover. The title was pressed on in a gold ink reading _Poisons Moste Evile_. “It’s a sister book to a book of a very similar name,” Draco said. “Barely any copies survive, and I was able to get this one for free.”

“Free?” Harry asked, “how?”

Draco gave Harry a sly, cheeky grin. “Short story, the manager made some very rude and lewd comments about you, my pet. Comments that only I should ever say about you. I’ve revealed my age and name and threatened to alert the French Aurors. Well, the Malfoy name carries weight even here, and fearing not to cross with that, and have his shop taken away, he gladly has given me this English version of the text for my silence about his unfortunate comments.”

“Draco,” Harry whispered, equally impressed and afraid. “I’m going to yell at you for using me like that later on… but for now, I’m very impressed.”

Draco kissed Harry and smiled, “You should be, my love. Your husband is very skilled with his tongue.” Harry raised an eyebrow at that, “Then I really should get to know this skill, Malfoy,” he said.

“You will, Harry Malfoy,” Draco purred. Holding the book to his side, he took Harry’s hand and pulled him out of the shop. Harry felt the weight of the collar still against his skin, and blushed as they were in public. “You never told me,” he said, “why the collar?”

“To show the bastard that you’re mine, simply,” Draco said. “And, because I always wanted to collar the great Harry Potter, just decided that back then was a good enough time.”

“Without asking me?” Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Of course I’m going to ask you when I do it permanently,” he said, “that time was just a trial. Why? Is it too tight? Too heavy?”

Harry blushed, “Actually,” he admitted, “it feels just right.” Draco smiled at that.

“Then there is no need to remove it then, my love,” he said. He moved his hand to carass the back of Harry’s neck. The smaller teen relaxed under Draco’s touch, and leaned towards him as they walked back to the café. Again, Draco did the talking, and soon Harry and him found themselves in a secluded table in the back of the café. Draco took out _Poisons Moste Evile_ and looked up at Harry.

Harry stared back at him, confused. “What?”

“It’s your idea and mission, you should open the book and look for the poison we’re making,” Draco said.

“Oh,” Harry said. Draco pushed the book towards him, and Harry felt the book in his hands. It felt heavy, Harry found his hands trembling slightly. Not from fear, but from a sick excitement. He opened the cover slowly, doing his best to hide his smile. The pages felt good, they were old, yellowish, but still the words printed were in perfect condition. He was quickly absorbed in the book, leafing through the pages and skimming its contents. There were so many different potions and poisons. Poisons that killed instantly, that given various deadly illnesses, freezes the heart, fill the lungs with toxic… so many deadly poisons and each with a detailed picture description. Harry looked through them all, his excitement mixing with disgust. At some point a drink appeared next to Harry, which turned out to be hot chocolate.

Draco was silent as Harry skimmed the book, watching carefully and admiring the concentration. Harry only looked up when he was near the end of the book, his hand holding it open while the other held his cup. “Did you find something?” Draco asked.

“Maybe,” Harry said, “just listen.” He looked down at the book, as did Draco. There was a moving detailed drawing of a man holding his neck, gasping fruitlessly for breath, his face turning a vivid purple as his eyes bulged. “ _’The Strangler, an assassin’s best friend. A rather useful poison, both traceless and tasteless, the Strangler will always meet its victims when they least expect it. A delay potion, The Strangler takes its victims three days after consumption, allowing the assassin to be far away for when the victim finally succumbs.’_ This would be great! If we can get them to drink this poison, we won’t have to worry about the others getting suspicious. It’ll just seem like old men dying.”

“Yeah, yeah that’ll be great,” Draco agreed. He nodded and looked at the book, muttering the ingredients needed. “Many of these are very rare,” he said. “Belladonna I would expect, as with Hellebore and Hemlock, those I can get easily, we can get those from Snape’s personal stash. But the others… Blood lilies, venom from various snakes… this will take time to gather. However…” he continued to read the directions, “we should be able to make it. Especially if you and your friends were able to make Polyjuice Potion three years ago.”

Harry nodded in agreement and looked at the directions as well. It would take less time than the Polyjuice Potion to make, two weeks instead of a month, however one cauldron’s worth would be more than plenty for what they need. “Then, we should create a list then,” he said. “Of those we’re giving the poison to.”

“Yaxley,” Draco said without a pause, “that old man is just horrid. Ah.” He signaled a cute waiter and after some rapid French, the waiter gave Draco a quill. Draco took it and wrote Yaxley’s name on the side of the page, next to the choking picture. “He is one of You-Know-Who’s more fanatic supporters.”

Harry nodded and said, “And everyone who is Azkaban. Voldemort wants to free them soon… I know it’s going to be soon.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, “My aunt is one of them,” he said. “Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Harry frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I never met her,” Draco said. He looked worried, “however my mother and her were close…”

“She’s also Sirius’ cousin,” Harry said, the memory suddenly popping in. “But I don’t think he’ll care about her death.”

Draco gave a short nod and with a sigh, wrote down the names Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Travers, Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Mulciber II. He looked up at Harry, waiting for the next name. “Parkinson,” Harry said, “her dad, as with Greengrass. Avery… Crabbe and Goyle are too stupid to be a threat, I think.”

“You’re right,” Draco nodded. “Just make them understand we’re stronger.” He wrote down the names, as well as two more. “The Carrow twins,” he said. “Mother and father told me horror stories about those two. They are sadistic and mad like the others. There is also Rowle, Thorfinn Rowle… and Gibbon… I cannot remember his first name.” Harry nodded and looked at the list, counting.

“Fifteen,” he said. “Fifteen victims. Strange, I would think there would be more.”

“There are those who are not specifically Death Eaters but support You-Know-Who’s cause,” Draco said. “Such as Fenrir Greyback.”

Harry frowned, “Who?”

“A werewolf,” Draco said. “During the first war, father told me stories of how he would steal kids, do …stuff to them and turn them. He’s savage, an animal given human form. It is a certainty that Voldemort will call on his aide during this war, just as he did with the giants.”

“Then we need to get rid of him as well,” Harry said. Draco agreed, writing down the name. “Sixteen,” he said.

“Snape,” Harry said.

“No.”

“But he’s a Death Eater,” Harry argued.

“He works for Dumbledore as well,” Draco said. “Sixteen is enough Harry, no more.” And to emphasize his point, Draco closed the book and placed the quill down. Harry looked like he wanted to argue more but relented.

“Fine,” he said, “Not Snape.” He relaxed back in his chair. He glanced down at the book, his heart was beating fast. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Terribly,” Draco said, “I… I don’t know how I was able to write their names.”

“I think this is enough for now,” Harry said. “We can… we can get the ingredients together later. Use the Shadow-walkers when needed.”

“Agreed,” Draco nodded. “In the meantime, we should figure our your lie.”

“My lie?” Harry asked.

“That you will tell your godfather and friends,” Draco said. “You did disappear yesterday without a trace.”

“Oh,” Harry blushed. “I… I forgotten about that.” He bit his bottom lip, “I’ll think of something. I’m good at that. Lying on the spot.”

“Then we should get back my love,” Draco said. He stood up and held out his hand for Harry. Harry accepted and smiled as he stood up, meeting Draco’s lips in a kiss. Draco’s hand moved to his ass and held with a tight grip as Harry got the book. Still holding onto Harry’s ass, Draco escorted him to the fireplace again, paying on their way out. A few moments later, they were back in the Malfoy summer house, and as soon as they stepped out, Draco pushed Harry against the wall, kissing him roughly as his hands squeezed and played with his ass through the clothes. Harry moaned and melted in the kiss.

Licking him as he moved away, Draco smirked “That should last you until we come back,” he said. “Be a good boy, Harry.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry smiled, his cheeks crimson. Draco took out his wand and the lights around them went out, the curtains on windows drawn and shadows overtook them. Draco led Harry towards the darkest shadow, the familiar red eyes greeting them. Being a good husband, he figure it was only best to escort his husband and submissive home. The red eyes of the shadow-walkers around them, Harry and Draco walked in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Harry laid his head on Draco’s shoulder as they walked.

Suddenly the red eyes vanished. Harry felt a hand around his throat. As he and Draco were pulled back through the shadows, and as light surrounded them, they were face to face with Lord Voldemort.


	2. Deadly Consequences

Chapter 2

Deadly Consequences

Lord Voldemort stood in front of his son and Draco Malfoy. His handsome, older face scowling with a silent fury, a deadly aura surrounding him as his dark eyes glared at Harry and Draco. Harry and Draco stared up at him with fear, and he tightened his grip on Harry’s throat before dropping him unceremoniously onto the floor. A book fell from out of Harry’s hand, but Voldemort did not look at it. “It is kind of you to finally show yourself, Harry, Draco,” he said, his voice seeping with an icy venom.

“F-Father,” Harry said hoarsely, clearing his throat. Voldemort smirked as he heard his son. He squeezed tight enough to set a reminder.

“I’ve had to torture all of your guests last night, boy,” Voldemort said, “after you humiliated me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Silence!” Voldemort yelled. “You have humiliated me, laughed at my power and influence and caused doubt in my followers. Was it worth it, boy?”

Harry stayed silent. He felt a prickling at his forehead, but not his scar. It was an invasive feeling. Voldemort did not speak, and Draco just stared between the two of them, scared. The pain went away a moment later, and Voldemort smirked. “You intend to kill my followers by poison,” he stated. “The Stranger. What a cowardly way, but efficient.”

He moved away from the two teens and sat in a nearby chair. Leaning back, he stared at Harry as the boy struggled to catch his breath. “How did you know?” Draco said cautiously. Voldemort’s eyes turned from Harry to him.

“You think I would not read the minds of those foolish enough to try to betray me?” Voldemort said.

“We’re not betraying you,” Harry said, his voice back to normal. He stood tall by Draco, glaring at his father. “I told you what was going to happen. I told you that I will kill your followers. This is how. You may think it’s cowardly, but this is how Draco and I will kill them.”

“Ohh, is that so?” Voldemort said with a slow chuckle. “And tell me, boys, who is it that you will kill? Whose god will you be to determine life and death?”

Harry glanced at Draco for a moment before reaching for the book on the ground, his eyes never leaving Voldemort. The Dark Lord did not move as Harry got the book and opened it, flipping until he reached the page that Draco wrote on. He glanced down at it for a moment, calming his breath, before looking back up at his father. “Sixteen,” he said. “Sixteen people.”

“Sixteen people… how ambitious,” Voldemort said in a mocking way. “To think you will kill sixteen of my men. Very well, name them.” Harry did. He read directly from the list, never once looking up at Voldemort until he was done. The Dark Lord was silent for a long moment, staring down at Harry and Draco. “That is an impressive list of names, I must admit however it is clear whom you are sparing… you wouldn’t dare to hurt those related to your friends.”

Harry and Draco glanced at each other for a moment.

“I did not hear Nott’s name… shame really, since you have been explicit with Greengrass and Parkinson,” Voldemort continued. A cold sneer grew across his face. “Come here boy,” he said, holding out his hand to Harry. Harry moved towards him, more out of fear than obedience. His legs moved while his mind was telling him to stop. Voldemort just held his hand out patiently as Harry took painful step after painful step until he was close enough for his father to snatch his wrist and pull him the rest of the way. Uncaring, Voldemort grabbed Harry’s sleeve and pushed it up, revealing his Mark on his inner forearm, fully formed.

The mark looked as though it bled from Harry’s skin, the thick black snake wrapping around his arm and the large skull, resting at it’s top with a small crown, much like the crown Harry thought his father would rather wear. Voldemort smirked at it for a moment, “It is complete,” he said, and pulled out his wand, “and with it… you are completely mine.” He pressed his wand against the mark. Pain rushed through Harry’s arm and he screamed as the mark burned an angry red. The pain burned deep inside him, Harry felt tears well up as he screamed, all the while Voldemort just watched with sadistic look. Behind him, Harry could hear Draco’s protests, followed by his own voice screaming in pain.

It ended abruptly, and Harry fell from exhaustion. Coughing as he tried to catch his breath, he felt hands on his shoulders and looked over his shoulder to see Draco holding him. Draco helped him to his feet just as a loud cracking noise appeared behind them. They turned to see Theo’s father, Nott Snr., kneeling before Lord Voldemort. “My Dark Lord, you have summoned me?” he said, his head bowed in respect.

“Yes, I have,” Voldemort said. “Rise, Nott.”

Nott Senior rose and finally noticed Harry and Draco. “You,” he said, blinking at them. “You’re Malfoy… my son’s friend.”

“I am, sir,” Draco said in a strained voice, glancing up at Voldemort, both he and Harry feared for what he was planning.

“They have both disappointed me… however, I am a merciful Lord,” Voldemort said, getting their attention. “As such, I have decided to show them mercy. Harry, kill him.”

Harry’s blood turned to ice. Color draining from his face, he stared at the Dark Lord and turned to look at Theo’s father, who looked to be in an equally stunned silence. Draco’s hold on Harry tightened, and Harry felt his limbs go stiff. Nott’s eyes shifted quickly between Harry and his Lord, a cold sweat appearing as his arms found movement, nervously rubbing his hands. “My Lord,” he said, his voice shaking. “This—this must be a joke.”

“No, it is not. Harry, kill him,” the Dark Lord repeated.

“I won’t,” Harry said, finding his voice. He shook his head and stood shakily. “He’s not on the list, I won’t kill him.”

Voldemort sighed and stood up slowly. He looked at Harry. “Must you always be a disappointment?” he asked. Slowly he moved his wand, letting it linger on Draco before moving it to Nott, then finally Harry. _“Imperio!”_ he snarled.

The Imperious Curse hit Harry far more powerful than ever. It felt stronger than Barty Crouch’s, and instantly Harry fell in a mindless void that made him feel light. He felt every worry and thought slowly wiped away, and a small shock inside him hated this. He tried to fight back, reaching out for those stray thoughts. As he struggled to keep his thoughts at hand, a voice, soft yet demanding, started to whisper around him. “Kill Nott.” _No,_ a small voice said inside him, _I won’t kill him._ “Kill Nott!” the voice said again, becoming sterner. _No!_ the voice yelled again. A blast of sensations overcame Harry, and he fell to his knees as his anxieties and thoughts were blown away. “Kill Nott!” the voice repeated again, filling Harry’s mind. _No,_ the protesting voice inside Harry cried out, growing weaker with each push. Harry felt like he was floating on a cloud, he stood up awkwardly, a dazed look in his eyes. He could hear someone yelling at him. Was it Draco? He could not tell. Through misty green eyes Harry stared at Theo’s father. He groveled on the ground in front of Harry and the Dark Lord, begging for his life, but Harry could not hear him. All he could feel was a joyous, calming sensation, floating along on his personal cloud as the voice overtook him. “Kill Nott. Kill Nott. Kill Nott.” All around him the voice whispered until it was the only thing Harry could hear and feel. The whispers felt deep inside him, vibrating his very core. “You know the words… raise your wand.” Harry felt his arm move, his hand slipping his wand from his pocket and aiming it at Nott. “That’s it… now cast it. Avada Kedavra.”

 _“Avada Kedavra!”_ Harry’s words broke through his cloud. The Killing Curse exploded from Harry’s wand, hitting Nott Snr’s chest and Harry watched as the body fell. Then his thoughts came back. Followed by his feelings. And an intense fearful guilt took over him as he fell, hearing in the now colder room Lord Voldemort’s cold laughter.

“My mercy!” Voldemort cried out. “Thank me boys, for it is your friend’s father and not yours, Draco!”

Harry felt cold. He shook as he stared at Nott’s body. _No, no I couldn’t have—I couldn’t. I killed him._ Tears streamed down the teen’s face. He felt a hand on him and shuddered away from it, only to see Draco’s broken face. He looked scared; he was staring at Harry with fear. _No, please don’t fear me,_ Harry thought as Draco’s eyes glanced from him to Voldemort. Harry turned as well,

“I will give you three weeks,” Voldemort said, not caring about the troubled, depressed looks the teens had as they were filled with despair. “You will first visit my oldest and most loyal of followers, Yaxley. Have your potion by then if you can, for it does not matter. You will go to him and beg for his forgiveness and show your loyalty to your Lord as you have done just now. That is all.”

Harry had no time to respond, no time to say goodbye to Draco or process what happened. For the next thing he knew, he was falling in darkness. He did not know how long he was falling. Harry just felt numb, the cold despair of his actions overtaking him. His sleeve fell, thankfully, hiding his mark but he did not notice. He did not notice his surroundings at all, until he was on top of the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, falling with a crash that shook the table violent, breaking its legs.

Harry curled around himself, shaking as he cried silently. There was a rush of footsteps, and a moment later Harry heard one of the twins yell out, “Mum! Mum! It’s Harry!”

Commotion exploded around Harry. The portraits woke up, their screams filling the house, Mrs. Black’s screams the shrillest of them all. Mixing with running footsteps, Harry could not understand what was going on around him, his mind only seeing the lifeless body of Theo’s father in front of him, especially when he closed his eyes.

People around him were screaming his name, but he did not hear. There were hands on him, helping him off of the broken table, and soon he was facing the face of Mrs. Weasley, who looked at him dreadfully worried. She said something but Harry did not hear. Her hand on his arm made him think of his mark and he felt bile rising inside him. He did his best to swallow it back.

Harry was passed from Mrs. Weasley to Remus and finally Sirius, all of their faces looking tired and worried, it was obvious that none of them slept last night and that only made Harry feel guilt on top of his hollow grief. Sirius grabbed him by both shoulders and stared at him. “Harry, Harry,” he called out, “where were you? What happened? Are you alright?”

Harry couldn’t answer. He opened his mouth several times but no noise could come out. He felt cold. His eyes darted around, looking at every face that stared back at him. _They can’t know, do they know? They can’t know,_ his mind went wild. _Murderer. Killer. Victim. Dead. A man is dead. I killed him. I was not myself. I was myself. Did I do it? Voldemort? I killed him. No it was Voldemort. Me. Voldemort. Me. Voldemort._ He lost it. Held by Sirius, Harry screamed.

He screamed and screamed as Sirius’s hands held him tighter. He pulled Harry into a hug and would not let go as Harry continued to scream, his voice growing hoarse and dying. He coughed, gagged and made unhuman gargling noises as his voice broke. His mind was slipping between something and reality, he didn’t want to be touched. He was dirty.

 _Clean,_ Harry thought. _I need to get clean._

He breathed heavily, mustering whatever strength was inside him and croaked out, “Clean… bath…”

“Are you sure? Harry, what happened? Where were you dearie?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“That can be answered, after Mr. Potter is cleaned.” It was Dumbledore. Harry did not know when he arrived. “Sirius, if you would watch him on his way? I will make something for his throat and voice.”

Sirius gave a curt nod. He looked at Harry and moved to have an arm around his shoulders, “Come on Harry,” he said gently. Harry’s feet moved sluggishly, dragging across the floor. He kept his head down. He didn’t want to see their faces. He couldn’t. Harry couldn’t handle their pity, their sleepless worry, their anxiety. It would only add, only depress him even more. Sirius talked, but he barely listened. “I wish you would tell me,” Sirius whispered, “where you were. I was so worried for you Harry, we all were… when we realized that you weren’t here, that you weren’t anywhere… I felt so scared.”

Harry frowned. He hated this, hated himself. He should have been stronger. He must be stronger. He shouldn’t have killed Nott. He should have killed Voldemort. He didn’t feel himself. Where was the boy who faced Voldemort? Faced the Basilisk? Faced Quirrell and turned back time to save Sirius? Where was he? He wasn’t here. He wasn’t being escorted to the bath by Sirius. He was somewhere else. He was the voice who protested and died away and now all that was left was… what? Harry did not know.

Sirius left him inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Harry moved to the bathtub automatically and took off his clothes, sitting in the empty tub for a while before turning the hot water facet on. He looked down at himself. His skin looked normal, hints of puberty peppered around his body, the starting of chest hair growing as well as hair on his legs and arms… except for where the Dark Mark laid. _Burn it away, I have to burn this spot away,_ he thought. He allowed the water to become hotter, the water slowly filling the tub. Harry scooped the water and got his arm wet. _Out. Out get out!_ He grabbed soap and started to scrub. The water rose, growing hotter and starting to burn, but he didn’t feel it. _I deserve this, I need this pain if only to get this out! OUT DAMN SPOT!_ He kept scrubbing. But through the soapy suds, Harry could still see the Dark Mark, black as night. It was mocking him; Harry could hear its laughter, his father’s laughter.

 _Out, out get out!_ He pleaded, pushing against the Mark, rubbing violently. The water was still rising in the tub. Seething hot, he dunked his hand in the water, groaning at the pain, and pulled it out to see the Dark Mark, perfectly clear among the reddening skin. _No, no…_ Harry could feel himself crying. He needed this mark off. He needed it gone. To be the person he was before this blasted mark! He kept scrubbing. The water steamed, fogging his glasses. Out of frustration, he threw his glasses away, a small cracking noise soon happened after. He did not care. He kept scrubbing. Then he saw red. He stopped and stared at his hands. In his deluded mind, he could see blood. His hands were soaked in Nott’s blood. He had to clean those off too. He pushed his hands in the water, rubbing fiercely with the soap. He was shaking, feeling cold despite the hot water. The water stopped automatically but Harry kept scrubbing. “Out,” he said hoarsely, “Get out… I have… to clean…” He scrubbed all over. Everywhere felt dirty, vile. He remembered the look of horror that was on Draco’s face and he scrubbed harder, tears falling freely, joining the water. His skin started to hurt, he could feel his nails dragging against it, but he did not stop. He was starting to feel the pain from the hot water and thought that he deserved it. He gave in too easily; he allowed his father to control him so easily. And yet that damn spot would not get out.

He kept going back to his arm. Kept scrubbing and staring at the blackness that won’t fade, no matter how hard he rubbed and how red the surrounding skin became.

There was a knock, but Harry kept scrubbing. The door creaked open and Sirius started to come in. “Harry, I have a drink that will help your throat,” he said gently. He stopped and stared. Harry kept scrubbing at his Dark Mark, tears still flowing openly. “Harry!”

Harry jumped, water splashing out of the tub. He turned slowly to stare in horror at his godfather. “Harry… what happened?”

He broke down. He dropped the soap and cried openly, shaking as his tears blurred his vision even more. Sirius rushed to Harry and pulled him tightly into his embrace. Harry cried on his shoulder, “I messed up,” he said weakly. “I’m sorry Sirius, I messed up.”


	3. Grief

Chapter 3

Grief

Sirius wrapped Harry in a towel. “Dumbledore needs to see this,” he muttered, “he’ll help you, Harry.”

Harry was silent. He felt cold as he stepped out of the water, the coldness burrowing deep inside him. Sirius helped him out before taking a step back, “I’ll get you warm clothes,” he said, “just stay here Harry.” Harry nodded and waited as Sirius stepped out of the bathroom. He returned a moment later with Harry’s clothes and waited outside the door as Harry dressed. Harry was thankful that Sirius gave him a long-sleeved shirt. There was a soft knock, and the door opened slightly. “You ready Harry?” Sirius asked, concerned.

“Yeah…” Harry sighed. He looked up at Sirius, doubt filling him. “Sirius… do you hate me?” he asked.

“No… no, no, no Harry,” Sirius said quickly, opening the door fully and grabbed Harry’s shoulders gently, their eyes meeting. “I can never hate you, Harry, you were weak, human. You made a mistake, and I know that… Dumbledore knows that. No matter what you do Harry, I will never hate you, understand?”

Harry nodded but frowned. “I feel weak,” he confessed. “I hate feeling weak.”

“Harry, you are the strongest wizard I have ever known,” Sirius said, smiling. “Believe me, after all, you have gone through, your mother and father would be so proud of you Harry.”

“Even this?” Harry asked, glancing down at his arm. Sirius hesitated, but Harry didn’t want to hear him stumble. Instead, he just pushed through, feeling disheartened.

“They will be proud of what you are about to do,” Sirius said after Harry went through the door. Harry stopped and wished that he would believe Sirius’ words. “You’re strong for doing this Harry, very strong.”

“I don’t feel it,” Harry said, and he continued his way back to the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley had food ready for him. The Weasleys all crowded around the table, along with Professor Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eyed Moody, the last two must have just arrived or not noticed by Harry in his guilt-fueled delirium. “How are you feeling sweetie?” Mrs. Weasley asked cautiously.

“Better…” Harry lied, sitting down in front of the food. He looked around and felt his voice died as the eyes stared at him. For the first time, he wanted none of them to be near him.

“Then, in this case, I think it would be best if you settle down and eat,” Professor Dumbledore suggested. “And if we do not crowd you,” he looked around the crowded room.

“Right,” Mrs. Weasley said, “Kids, out.”

“But mum!” Ron and Ginny said.

“No buts, you lot,” Mrs. Weasley said, “Out!”

“He’ll tell us either way,” Ginny argued. “You’re just delaying it! You will tell us, right Harry?” she added, looking at him.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly.

“See? So we’re staying,” Ginny said.

“Yeah!” Ron agreed.

“Children, children,” Fred sighed, “this is an adult conversation, now you three get out,” he smiled at the two and Hermione.

“You too Fred, and you as well George,” Mrs. Weasley said strictly. “All of you, out.”

“Mother! We’re responsible adults now,” George gasped, feigning a look of hurt. “We can handle whatever is going to happen.”

“Your mother is right boys,” Lupin interjected. “All of you should get out. This is official Order business.”

“Fine,” George said, looking at his twin and giving a sly smile. “We will leave, as the responsible adults we are. Come along, children.” The two heralded Ron, Ginny, and Hermione out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley followed them, closing the door and muttering a privacy charm. The adults sat around Harry and waited patiently. The teen looked at the spread of food around him, and took a bite of mashed potatoes, the heat filling the cold void inside him before he drowned it with a cup of pumpkin juice that magically refilled itself.

“Any time you are ready Harry,” Dumbledore said gently, “Tell us what happened… where you were.”

Harry nodded shortly and frowned, trying to find the right words. “I was… I was at a wedding yesterday,” he began, staring at his food, playing with the pile of mashed potatoes. He didn’t want to look up. “My wedding… yesterday I was married to Draco Malfoy… we’re dating each other, love each other, but we were forced into marriage yesterday… by Voldemort.”

There was a jump at Voldemort’s name. Mrs. Weasley gave a sharp gasp and almost bumped the table while Tonks almost fell from her chair. Dumbledore, however, stayed calm. “You saw Voldemort, yesterday?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “In fact, he walked me down the aisle…”

“Why is that, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry took a deep breath. His fingers started to shake. “Because… because…” he stopped. He could feel himself become weak, tears threatening to fall. “I was weak,” he said hatefully. “I was weak and in love. …I wanted Draco, needed him. And Voldemort… Voldemort took advantage of that.”

His hand moved suddenly to his sleeve and gripped it. He tried to pull it up, but it felt as though he was pulling pure iron. “In the graveyard,” He continued, “to save Cedric, I had to… had to…”

He tried pulling up his sleeve again but couldn’t. He refused to look up, he didn’t want to see their faces. Faces full of disgust and pity, he assumed. Hatred and empathy, he didn’t want any of it. His eyes wet with tears. He continued talking, “I had to go under Voldemort’s wing… because I wanted Draco… I wanted to save Cedric. He killed Wormtail… and marked me.” Finally, slowly, with an agonizing pain that burned his hand and heart, he pulled his iron heavy sleeve. Inch by inch, his Dark Mark revealed itself, burning black against his skin. There were gasps, he could hear Moody growling to himself while Mrs. Weasley muttered.

“Harry…” Dumbledore said. Sounding disappointed, but mostly concerned. Harry frowned and for the first time he looked up to stare at Dumbledore. His eyes twinkled sadly behind his half-crescent moon.

“This was the only way to be with Draco,” Harry continued. “That is what I believed… I had to be with him, had to side with Voldemort and be included into Pureblood society. Draco and I were going to marry under the Submissive Clause.”

“But that is ancient!” Mrs. Weasley said, “Nobody even thinks of using that anymore! Where did you even learn about that?”

“Books about Pureblood Society… I’ve read them during the summer of third year,” Harry said, looking to Mrs. Weasley for the first time. Her face was full of empathy, tears brimming as she did her best to dab them away with a napkin. “I… liked the idea, being tied submissively to Draco, I actually loved it. I thought it would be the best way to get him… and Voldemort would give me a chance to talk to him. And he did. During the summer after the Triwizard Tournament, I was at Malfoy Manor… learning the Dark Arts from Voldemort. Between lessons, I would find Draco and talk with him. We began our relationship during the summer, and it was strong… we really do care for each other. It seemed that everything was right, everything was going well… but then…” Harry gave a sharp intake and looked back to his mark. He shuddered, frowning as he tried to collect himself.

“Take your time,” Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. His face was wet with tears; however, he didn’t want to clean it. He shut his eyes tightly and took deep breaths. “He needed me, Voldemort,” he continued after a minute. “He needed my blood, more of my blood, and he needed me to have his blood…”

“I don’t understand,” Lupin said when Harry stopped, looking distressed. He glanced between Harry and Dumbledore, “Why would there need to be a swapping of blood?”

“He needed a son,” Harry answered. “I fought back. Almost killed him with the Killing Curse. I could feel the power… it would have killed him if it hit, but I missed. That was what sealed my fate… he turned me into his son. There was a potion… he mixed his and my blood in it. I drank it and there was a great pain followed by nothing. I didn’t feel any different… but I knew deep down that he was in me… he will always be inside me both by blood and his Horcrux.”

Dumbledore’s hands made a small bang on the table, getting their attention. His face drained as he stared at Harry. “Harry, repeat that, please,” Dumbledore said. Harry stared at him, he could have sworn that he heard fear in the old wizard’s voice.

“Horcrux… Voldemort has Horcruxes,” Harry said.

“Several? Plural?” Dumbledore breathed. “To think… but it was only the natural conclusion considering him,” he muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry I’m lost but what exactly is a Horcrux? What did the Dark Lord put inside my godson?” Sirius demanded.

“His soul,” Harry answered. “I have a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of me… ever since he… since the night he killed my parents. A piece of his soul broke apart and connected with me.”

“The same happened, more intentionally I assume, with the diary you have destroyed three years ago,” Dumbledore said, looking at Harry. “Once I have realized its nature, I had hoped that it would be the only one that he had created… It seems, however, that I have underestimated Lord Voldemort’s thirst for immortality. I am sorry to distract you, but Harry do you have any idea of how many he has created? Or which objects?”

“No sir,” Harry said softly. “Voldemort hasn’t shared anything about that with me…”

“I see… continue then, if you would, take your time and help us progress through these painful times,” Dumbledore said. Harry nodded and took another sip of his drink.

Harry was silent again, frowning at his drink as the adults stared at him. “The next day, he used my mixed blood to make himself stronger,” he continued. “He needed blood… a lot of blood. It hurt so much, but I gave it to him. I don’t know what came over me, but I gave it to him… and he drank it, and became handsome again.”

“All that to become pretty?” Moody grunted. “Sounds wasteful.”

Harry shook his head, “He became powerful too, I could feel it,” he said. “He introduced me as his son to his Death Eaters but hid my face. It wasn’t until the wedding that I was revealed. We argued, constantly, Voldemort and I over his ideology. I told him… I told him over and over that I’ll kill his followers, each and every one before I find a way to kill him.”

“Harry, surely you didn’t mean—”

“I did,” Harry interrupted, looking at Tonks, who spoke. “I did, and I will. I thought it would feel good until last night.”

“What happened last night, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“I gave a speech, a very hurtful, hateful speech towards his followers,” Harry said. “Draco and I fled to France for some time, and we came up with a plan. We were returning when Voldemort caught us. He forced our plan out of us, as well as the list of Death Eaters. He decided to show mercy.” A disgusting sneer appeared on Harry’s face, any weakness left him as a fit of venomous anger filled him. “He summoned Theo’s dad, Theo’s a friend of Draco and me. He came, obviously, they always come to that monster’s summon. He had… he ordered me to kill Theo’s dad. I refused. So he… he used the Imperius Curse on me. I tried to fight it, but he was too powerful. I can still feel him inside me, crawling on my skin … I can hear his whispers in my head. Telling me to relax, to obey and to kill. I… I watched my hand bring my wand out and point it at Mr. Nott. I killed him…I killed my friend’s dad. And I felt happy during it like I didn’t have a care in the world. And then he released me and sickness flooded back in…”

“Oh, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley said. She rushed around the table and smothered Harry in a hug. “It’s not your fault sweetie,” she said, “you had no control.” She pulled a chair by them and sat down so she could still hug Harry.

“She is right,” Dumbledore said, “The death of Theodore Nott Senior was not your fault, Harry. However, I am disappointed that during these events you haven’t considered coming to me, asking for my help.”

“I thought I could handle it,” Harry said. “I thought I could learn from Voldemort and use it against him… I was wrong, and now people are dead.”

Dumbledore frowned. “Are you still under his trust?” he asked. “Does Voldemort still give you commands?”

Harry gave a short nod. “I’m supposed to start meeting members in his inner circle and apologize for my behavior during the wedding,” he said. “My first meeting is in three weeks with Yaxley, I’m supposed to show that Voldemort is not a Dark Lord to cross.”

“I see,” Dumbledore muttered. “This complicates things…”

I want this gone,” Harry said, looking down at his mark. “No longer how much I scrub it won’t move.”

“The Dark Mark is a curse, a powerful curse,” Dumbledore said. “It is tied directly to its maker. With the defeat of Voldemort, it will fade, however, a scar will always remain.” Harry gave him a hopeless look. “However… until then, there is a simple glamour I can teach you, Harry, and allow your arms to once again freely wear short shirts.” He gave a small smile and took out his wand. He tapped Harry’s arm and it glimmered for a second, shimmering like a reflection in a pond as the Dark Mark faded, leaving smooth, flawless skin in its place.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.

“And thank you, Harry, for confiding in us,” Dumbledore said, giving him a smile.

“Boy could be useful,” Moody grumbled, getting their attention from the corner. “You said you made a plan, eh? What is it?”

“A poison,” Harry answered. “Draco and I want to brew a poison that will strangle the drinker in three days.”

Moody grunted, both his eyes, magical and regular, staring at Harry. “Could be useful,” he said, “getting rid of his followers, eh?”

“Alastor! You are not suggesting Harry do something so... so dangerous!” Mrs. Weasley said. “He is just a boy!”

“A boy who’s done a whole lot more against the Dark Lord than any of us,” Moody growled back.

“It is an unnecessary risk,” Dumbledore said, looking at Moody. “We should not have Harry take any more risks than he had already.”

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Tonks said, “Harry, how did you move around so much?” You were with us during the summer, how did you get to Malfoy Manor?”

“The shadows,” Harry answered. “There are creatures in the shadows, they allowed me to travel to wherever I want, as well as Draco. They are how we fled to France and back again.”

“Wicked,” Tonks said, giving a low whistle.

“And very impressive,” Dumbledore added. “You can control them, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “And I got them to listen to Draco too… however, they also listen to Voldemort. While Draco and I were going back here, Voldemort reached through the shadows and dragged us back to him.”

Dumbledore nodded. He leaned back in his chair, a deeply thoughtful expression on his face as he examined Harry. Silence filled the room, and, feeling awkward, Harry went back to playing with his food, taking small bites now and again. Around him, the adults shared looks, Sirius and Lupin huddled together in one corner speaking in hushed whispers while Mrs. Weasley and Tonks watched Harry closely. Moody, however, had one eye on Harry while his electric blue eye whirled around his head, looking upwards. The silence grew, and its tension slowly started to wear down on Harry. He glanced at Dumbledore, who still looked deep in thought.

Minutes dragged, becoming hours or half hours, and before Harry knew it, he was playing with air as his plate was empty. It was only then did Dumbledore looked up again. “Thank you again, Harry,” he said. “You are not in trouble, and none of us, I am certain, hold anything you have told us against you. You’ve had a stressful couple of days, and have more than earned a peaceful sleep. I will walk around the house, making sure to fortify it against these shadow creatures. I am sorry but you will not be able to use them for the remainder of your holiday.”

“Okay, sir… thank you,” Harry said. He stood up, exhausting falling onto him, and left the room, wanting nothing more than to fall into his bed and sleep.

Draco was in Theo’s room. He felt a mixture of guilt and sadness as he held his friend, who was sobbing into him, holding Draco’s clothes tightly. “We did nothing wrong,” Theo cried. “We did nothing… nothing to make _him_ angry. I don’t understand Draco.”

After Harry left, Voldemort had Nott Snr’s body deposited right in the front room of Theo’s home, where the teenager found him. Draco didn’t have the stomach to tell him what happened, how Voldemort forced Harry to kill him. He thought it was best to keep that to himself. Instead, he held onto his friend, rocking gently as he rubbed circles on his back. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered. “Everything will get better Theo.”

“I just told him about Ron and me,” Theo cried, his voice growing hoarse. He coughed. “He was… he was happy! Glad! He told me… he told me to go after him.”

“That’s wonderful,” Draco whispered, “See, focus on the positive. We already know now, you have your dad’s approval. You can start dating Ron without worrying.”

“I want to date Ron so he can meet him!” Theo screamed. “I want my father to meet my boyfriend! But now that’ll never happen!” He looked up at Draco and Draco felt his heart break. The normally composed and calm teen now looked in complete disarray. His face was bright pink from crying, Large streaks of tears coated his cheeks, his hair was a complete mess and his eyes were sore and puffy. “I want my dad back Draco. I want him to shake Ron’s hand. To pat my back and tell me how proud he is. To sit and listen to stories I tell him about Ron and me. I want him in my life Draco! But now I can’t. Now he’s gone. …He’s gone… gone…” The tears started once more, Theo’s voice breaking. Draco held him tighter and they fell onto Theo’s bed.

Draco held Theo as he cried, rubbing circles on his friend’s back. He was patient, waiting for Theo to get it all out. At one point, the crying stopped, and Draco looked down to see Theo’s eyes closed, breathing rhythmically. “Cried yourself to sleep,” Draco chuckled. With a sigh, he moved gently, getting his hands out from under Theo. Free, he rolled off the bed and looked down at his friend. He looked so peaceful, despite his still puffy tear-streaked face. Draco looked around and felt that it would be best for Theo if he was actually sleeping properly.

First, Draco went around the room, making sure the windows were closed and shuttered, the curtains pulled over to retain the heat. Next, Draco went to Theo and started to undress him. He took off his shoes and socks, as well as he undid his belt and pulled down his pants, leaving his friend in only his shirt and underwear. He had to move slowly, as not to wake him, and he had to touch Theo more gently and familiarly than he wanted to. The hardest part, however, was moving Theo under the covers. They were sitting at the edge of Theo’s bed, and so when Theo fell asleep, he was on the complete opposite side of where he was supposed to be. Draco moved towards the pillows and pulled the blankets open widely. Almost half the bed has the covers opened. He then turned to his friend and pulled out his wand. With a simple swish and flick, he said, _“Wingardium Leviosa”_ and Theo’s body started to slowly rise, his arms and legs hanging down. “Damn it,” Draco whispered. He moved his wand, and with it, Theo’s sleeping body, upwards towards the pillows. When he was in place, Draco slowly moved his wand down, stepping towards Theo so he can hold his arms out of the way, so he did not land on them.

When Theo was safely on the bed, and somehow still sleeping, Draco pulled the covers over him and sat down on the edge of the chair. “I’ll kill him, Theo,” he promised, fixing his friend’s hair. “I’ll make sure that each and every one of them pay. You just focus on taking care of Weasley, okay?” Draco smiled at his sleeping friend and watched him for a moment before standing. With a heavy sigh, Draco left his friend, disappearing in the darkest shadow and walking with a purpose in the darkness.


	4. The Strangler

Chapter 4

The Strangler

Being a Malfoy always meant that he was a man of means. After Draco left his friend, a great heaviness burned inside him, fueling a rage that he had never felt before. He returned to his home, and found himself restless. He went to this room and pulled out the book that he and Harry brought. He paced the length of his room a few times, debating internally, before grabbing the book and slamming it on a nearby desk, pulling out a parchment and quill.

He copied down the ingredients, his handwriting neat and precise, despite the feeling of restlessness. It was starting to get dark, and Draco knew that right now the Dark Lord would be ordering his father and mother to eat with him. _He would probably be gloating about Theo’s father,_ Draco thought sadly to himself. He found that he wasn’t hungry. With the list in hand, Draco left his room. As he walked down a hallway towards a side staircase, a house-elf stopped him. “Master Draco! Please stop. Topsy been ordered to bring you to dinner!”

“Move,” Draco ordered, pushing the house-elf out of the way.

“But Master Draco, sir!” the house-elf insisted. “Topsy has been ordered by him!” Draco stopped. He turned on his heels and stared at the house-elf. Topsy trembled, his large eyes already looking around for something to punish himself with.

“This is his order?” Draco repeated. He thought for a moment then looked down at the house-elf. “Tell _him_ and my parents that I am currently busy, and so, I will not be joining him. And as a married man, I will not allow nor accept any demands from my in-law.”

The house-elf looked as though his life has left him. Turning a sickly pale, Topsy just gave a scared nod and backed away slowly, looking like a man walking to the gallows. But Draco didn’t care. He was too far interested in saving himself, his love, and those he cared about. He made his way to a small reception room that the Malfoys only used to travel by Floo for. In the room was a massive and elegant fireplace which can fit four people at once. The floo powder was kept in an ornate silver holder, and Draco took a fistful of it, and threw it into the fire. “Gringotts!” He yelled out clearly. Green flames erupted, and Draco walked through. Immediately, the spinning began, and fireplaces rushed past his eyes, which he did not focus on. He waited, closing is eyes, until he felt the movement stop, and smooth floor pressed against his feet.

Draco opened his eyes to the sleek marble and high ceiling of Gringotts. He stepped out of the fireplace, which was against a wall along with many others, and walked down the long room, his footsteps muffled by the hushed chatter of wizards, along with the goblins’ quills scratching in thick, old ledgers. Since it was late at night, there was not many people there, and the goblins were obviously closing up the bank. Draco moved to a goblin who was free and said, “I’m here to withdraw from the Malfoy Vault.”

The goblin placed his quill down and stared at Draco down his long crooked nose. “Key?” he simply asked.

Draco pulled out his copy of the key to the family vault. The goblin inspected it, gave a grumble of approval, and gave it back to Draco. “Griphook will escort you,” he said.

The goblin named Griphook walked towards the two after a couple moments, and Draco followed him away from the main hall of the bank, towards one of the many side doors. Through that door, they stepped into a stone tunnel with a small platform. A minecart was waiting at the platform, and Draco sat in it without even waiting for the goblin whose name he had already forgotten. As soon as the goblin got in, the minecart blasted off from the station, going along the twisting railway through the various underground tunnels. Draco did his best to keep himself from getting dizzy from the ride. Deeper and deeper the cart went, the tunnel opening up to a large cavern. The goblin bent down and picked up a number of small metal instruments that when shaken made a loud ringing noise like a miniature hammers or anvils. Draco winced at the noise, wishing that the goblin would stop it as the twisting track started to even out. Draco saw before them a waterfall crashing over the tracks. He glanced at the goblin, annoyed. “We’re avoiding that,” he said.

The goblin just chuckled, and the minecart continued on the track, gaining speed as it closed in on the waterfall. “I am not in the mood to get wet, goblin!” Draco yelled, but was ignored as they soon swept through the waterfall, and Draco sputtered as the cold water hit him. Now wet and angry, Draco sneered at the goblin, crossing his arms. The cart stopped a little after that. In front of them was a large black metal door. Draco stepped out and watched the goblin walk up to the door, placing his hand on it. The sound of a large lock turning rang through the caves, and the black metal doors slowly swung open, revealing mountains upon mountains of gold Galleons, priceless jewels and artifacts, and paintings hanging on the walls. Draco pulled a small leather sack from the pocket of his robe and filled it to the brim with Galleons, not exactly counting how much, for he knew that he had more than enough. With his sack full of money, Draco turned to the goblin. “We are not going through that waterfall again,” he said.

They did.

Luckily, however, the high speeds of the minecart had mostly dried Draco when he and Griphook returned to the main lobby of the bank. Unfortunately, Draco had to go to the bathroom and spend twenty minutes cursing goblins as he tried to fix his hair.

His hair fixed, Draco left Gringotts and into the night sky of Diagon Alley. It was starless, dark and haunting. Only the moon shone, and even then it was a struggle as clouds covered it constantly. Draco walked, his head held high, towards Knockturn Alley. He went down the short steps that led to the tight, crowded street when a voice stopped him.

“Mr. Malfoy, a bit late to be wandering dark streets, is it not? I did not know that you have even returned ever since that… incident.” It was an old voice. Draco turned around to see Yaxley, dressed always like a gentlemen, walking down the stairs. “Why are you not with Potter?” he asked.

“I’m shopping,” Draco said. “I’m allowed to shop here, am I not, Yaxley?”

“Mayhaps, young Draco,” Yaxley said, “however the shops here hold none of the frivolous things your kind enjoy.”

“Is that a jab against my sexuality, old man?” Draco asked, “At least I am married, and one day will have heirs, unlike yourself. You should hear how my mother speaks of you, poor Yaxley always a suitor…” Draco smirked when he saw a flash of anger appear on the old man’s face. He turned around and shrugged, “Besides, what I am buying matters not to you, it’s for the complete and utter _pleasure_ of my husband. A feeling you might understand once you marry… if you live long enough to do that.”

“Such a vulgar, disrespectful child,” Yaxley said. Draco ignored him and continued his way. He heard footsteps following him and did not even need to look back to know that Yaxley was following him. He continued to ignore Yaxley as he went into the first shop, Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary.

“I must say, does the Dark Lord know that you are here?” Yaxley asked openly, “after that disrespectful show of last night, I am honestly surprise to see you out of your manor.”

“The Dark Lord does not own me,” Draco said. “I don’t have his mark.”

“But you do have his son,” Yaxley replied. “How surprising, I must admit that even I couldn’t believe it when _he_ was introduced as our Lord’s son… but now he is also your spouse.”

“You really do love to talk about relationships that aren’t yours,” Draco said. He went to the shopkeeper and pulled out his leather sack. “I need belladonna, helleborne, hemlock, blood lilies, and for you to point me to your snake venoms.”

“Of course,” said the shopkeeper, bowing his head. “My venoms are all over there,” he pointed to a far corner full of vials and jars. He disappeared behind the counter for a moment, coming back holding three large jars. “How much of each?”

“Thirty grams each,” Draco said. The man nodded and started to measure out the ingredients as Draco went to the venoms, Yaxley following him. “And how exactly does belladonna, helleborne, hemlock, blood lilies and snake venom supposed to bring Potter pleasure, exactly?” he asked.

“Makes his hole more sensitive,” Draco lied easily, “Make it act more like a pussy, tighter and wetter too.” He glanced back to see the severe disapproval on Yaxley’s face.

“How disgustingly vulgar,” Yaxley muttered. “To think you’ll talk about our Lord’s son—”

“I’ll talk about my husband in any way I want,” Draco interrupted, not even looking at Yaxley, and everything I say serves to elevate and praise my boy.” He started pulling out the snake venom, smiling to himself. “If you wish to continue following me, I’ll be also buying a very large dildo that will give Harry a proper pussy, although I’m sure that you will think that sort of actions is highly… unacceptable.” With the most potent snake venoms in hand, Draco went back to the counter and placed them neatly in a row.

“Is this all?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Do you also have flesh and muscles?” Draco asked.

“Why not him?” the shopkeeper joked, pointing to Yaxley. Draco glanced at him and without waiting a beat said, “He’s too weak, I need something fresher, stronger.”

“Ahh,” the shopkeeper smirked, “I know just what you need. Human?”

“Or ape,” Draco said.

“Yes, yes…” the shopkeeper chuckled. He bent down and pulled out two jars in which slabs of flesh floated in. “They will do… for a price.”

“I’m a Malfoy,” Draco said, “Prices mean nothing to me.”

“Of course, of course,” he nodded. Yaxley watched in silence as Draco paid for all the ingredients. Properly bagged, Draco took them and turned to Yaxley.

“Still intending on following me, old man?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Yaxley said. “Those ingredients are not child’s play, Mr. Malfoy. And married or not, you are still a child.”

“Child or no, at least I know how to use everything I’ve been given, and I do mean everything,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows quickly. Yaxley was quiet, and Draco did not wait for his reply as he left the shop, pocketing his leather sack full of money. As he expected, Yaxley followed him.

“It seems unfit for a child so young to be roaming Knockturn Alley so late at night,” the old man said, “especially since it is almost midnight.”

“Really? Then you are way pass your bedtime,” Draco hummed. “I only have one more stop before I get that dildo… unless you would like to help me find one that is thicker than my arm.”

“Your openness of such vulgar subjects… if your father were to hear of this, and mark my words he will, you will be in trouble not only with him, but the Dark Lord as well!” Yaxley said. “You have shown no respect to our Lord, nor do you seem even remotely apologetic for your and his behavior last night!”

Draco shrugged. “’Father, mother, father-in-law, I’ve decided to buy a sex toy for my husband and I as well as various potions that will allow my husband to more easily accept my sexual organ inside him and allow him to become pregnant with our heirs.’ Seems easy enough to explain. Now, if you excuse me, I need to buy some bones.”

Draco left Yaxley where he was standing, and went into Dystyl Phaelanges, a shop that sells bones exclusively. The Strangler requires flesh, muscle, and bones to make it so hands were strangler its victim. Without Yaxley hounding him, Draco was able to get the bones, freshly crushed into fine sands, easily and swiftly. With his shopping for the potion done, Draco thought for a moment before shrugging to himself. He heard of a sex shop nearby, and just to back up his lie, he went and spent half an hour in it. He found a couple of fun toys and clothes he wants to see Harry try, including a very fun pair of leather panties.

With his purchases in hand, and because he did not want to deal with seeing people nor being seen, Draco walked further down Knockturn Alley where the lights started to fade, and long, dark shadows took over. Draco stopped in the darkest corner he could find and waited until he saw the red eyes. “Bring me to Hogwarts, seventh floor,” he commanded, and walked into the embrace of the shadow creatures. Not afraid of them, Draco added, “Do not tell the Dark Lord about this. If you do, I will bring in the brightest fire I can find and burn you all.” His threat echoed in the shadows, and Draco couldn’t help but notice that the red eyes quivered slightly as he walked.

He appeared in the familiar corridors of Hogwarts. The moon shone brighter here, illuminating the halls and sleeping portraits. Bags in hand, Draco remembered the day Harry shown him the Room of Requirements. He looked around, getting his bearings, before walking down a corridor, turning on a corner and went down a small spiral staircase until he stood in the corridor where the Room of Requirement waited. He stared at the wall for five minutes, concentrating on a door appearing. When the wall stayed as it is, Draco gave a frustrated huff before remembering that he and Harry walked around the corridor three times.

 _I need to secret place to make my potion._ The thought went around and around in his head as he went around and around the corridors. After he passed the wall a third time, he stopped as a small wooden ordinary door appeared. Draco looked around, making sure no one was watching him, and he walked in.

It was a small nicely lit room. On the walls were lanterns, along with shelves with potion ingredients, and empty shelves for Draco’s ingredients. On the opposite side was an empty Chalkboard, which Draco stared at for a moment, wondering how he can use it. In the middle, however, was the main focus of the room, a large iron cauldron. Draco pressed his wand into the empty cauldron, _“Aquamenti,”_ he said, and water spout out of his wand, filling the cauldron quickly. He started a fire underneath and allowed it to warm up as he pulled out and organized his ingredients and the book.

He read the instructions, first he had to mince the flowers he brought and mixed them with the venom, where it must be carefully brewed over ten days, each day adding a different venom. The flesh, muscles, and bone are to be added last with the flesh fresh, muscles tight and bones finely gained. Thankfully, the book gave detailed instructions. Following them, Draco made sure that the muscles, skin, and bones would be properly preserved before moving to add the first venom.

According to the book, the first venom to be added was to be a common venom found in the common snake, nonlethal by itself, yet it, mixed with belladonna, will serve as a base for the rest of the venoms. He added both into the potion and watched the water turn into a light green coloring as he stirred it. He added a few other ingredients that were needed for the first day, and allowed the cauldron to simmer. “This needs to simmer for eighteen hours,” Draco muttered to himself, “which would be…” he checked his watch, “close to seven at night, easy to remember.” He turned to the blackboard and started to write down the next small list of instructions needed for when he returned. There was room, and with his mind still on Yaxley, Draco then started to write the list of their targets, starting with Voldemort and Yaxley. Draco felt a sense of pride as he stared at his work, and after a quick check to make sure he had everything in order, he left the room, disappearing once more into darkness.

For the rest of the break, the poison has taken over Draco’s life. Each day he made sure to return to the Room of Requirement, to check and work on his poison. He tried to inform Harry during the week, but the shadows informed him that something was blocking them. Draco was disappointed, yet he could wait until he saw his lovely lion in person. On the day term started once more, Draco was already at Hogwarts, working on the poison. The shadow creatures informed him the second Harry walked into Hogwarts. Smiling widely, Draco ran out of the Room of Requirements and up towards the entrance of Gryffindor Tower, where he did not have to wait long.

“Harry!” he said, running to hug and kiss his husband. They fell in their kiss, Draco easily taking control, not caring about the looks they were given. “I missed you,” he cooed.

“I missed you too Draco,” Harry smiled. Draco held onto him, kissing him again. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, “I have something important I want to show you,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. “So be a good boy for me.”

Harry let out a soft whine, which caused Draco to smile. “Just like that Harry,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, away from everyone. The Room of Requirements after dinner. I need time to prepare.” Draco allowed his words to tease in the air. Harry’s eyes shimmered with a clear lust. Draco smirked at this and kissed his cheek. “See you tomorrow babe,” he said loudly and glanced at Ron and Hermione for the first time. “Weasley… Granger,” he said politely before walking away.

“What was that about?” Ron demanded, his voice snapping Harry out of his trance.

“Nothing… nothing,” Harry said.

“Alright mate, say, when will you tell us?” Ron asked.

“About what?” Harry asked innocently.

“What you and Dumbledore talked about last night,” Ron said. “You never told us!”

“Oh… that,” Harry said, his heart falling. “I… I can’t tell you guys, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s… very difficult to explain.”

“Come on!”

“No Ron, it’s okay Harry, we understand,” Hermione said, “Don’t we, Ronald?” she added, giving Ron a sharp look.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ron said, though he still looked obviously curious, however he did not bring it up again for the rest of the night.

Harry was glad to be back in Hogwarts. He felt that he was once again safe from his father. He knew that Voldemort would never come to the castle, and so the worst he could do is summon Harry, which he can ignore. As long as he doesn’t use the Shadow Creatures, he is untouchable from Voldemort. He smiled and laughed with his friends throughout the feast, actually being able to ignore Umbridge for once, and when he laid down in his bed, he was happy, full, and exhausted. He closed his eyes and felt like he was sleeping for only a minute when he was abruptly awaken.

“Wake up, my son,” the handsome face of Voldemort said. Harry screamed and jumped up, only to see that he was no longer in his room, but on the floor of Malfoy Manor.

“Why am I here?” Harry demanded.

“Reclaiming faith and loyalty from my followers,” Voldemort said. “Tonight, my son, we are going to visit the prison of Azkaban, and you will release my most faithful of followers.”


	5. Azkaban

Chapter 5

Azkaban

It was always storming around the isolated island of Azkaban. Despite the fact that it was a clear night above Hogwarts, above Azkaban it was storming heavily, waves crashing violently against the rocky shore. Harry and Voldemort appeared inside the bottom floor of Azkaban, stepping through the darkness. It was a small room they walked into, a reception area with an empty fireplace and no door leading outside. From through the walls, Harry could hear rain pounding on the prison. He felt an uneasy dread in his stomach as he glanced at the handsome face of Voldemort. “Look carefully Harry as we walk through the prison,” Voldemort said. “One misstep, one bad move and these walls will be your home for the rest of eternity.”

“Yes, Father,” Harry said.

To their right was a large archway with unlit torches on either side. It was freezing, colder than Harry have ever felt, and as they walked towards the arch every happy memory and thought started to seep from his mind. Out of instinct, Harry pulled his wand out only for Voldemort to grab his wrist. “And what are you thinking?” Voldemort asked.

“There are Dementors here,” Harry said.

“Exactly… Dementors, our natural allies,” Voldemort smirked. “It would be bad to scare them away; they would think that we do not trust them.”

Harry stared at Voldemort. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Didn’t he feel the coldness? The dreadfulness seeping inside him? _Of course not,_ Harry thought, _he’s a monster._ Harry sighed and Voldemort let go of his wrist. Harry pocketed his wand and wrapped his arms around himself, doing his best to keep warm. He concentrated on his friends, on Draco, and did his best to hold only any happiness he could as he followed the Dark Lord. The prison was constructed so that there was one staircase that spiraled endlessly in the center of the prison. On every floor there was one door, from which you can enter the prison levels which held the criminals in their small cells. Voldemort explained to Harry that dementors are more prevalent higher up as that was where they held the worst of the prisoners, “So that if they somehow found a way out of their window… they would have a long fall down,” Voldemort chuckled with a sadistic glee.

Harry frowned and inhaled deeply as for a moment his thoughts moved to him falling out of one of the windows before switching back to a private moment between him and Draco. Voldemort led Harry to the stone staircase, and they started to climb it. With each step, it seemed to grow only colder and Harry had to huddle closer to himself while the Dark Lord moved undeterred. The storm started to dull as a new sound begin to rise. From the lower levels, Harry could hear a mixture of screaming and snoring. He couldn’t hear exactly what the prisoners were yelling, but as they reached the landings for each floor, Harry couldn’t help but try and keep as far away from the heavy wooden doors. Voldemort did not stop at these early doors. Instead, he continued to climb higher and higher, and the air and tension around them became colder and colder until even Harry’s thoughts began to freeze. A depressing, melancholic chill blowing through him. His thoughts of Draco, of his friends, started to break away as they turned a corner, and Harry saw them.

Black tattered robes covered their bodies. Spectral in form, their hands, when they are stretched out of the robes, remind Harry of rotting flesh and bone and a hollow rattling came from what was presumed their mouth. Harry stopped. He started to feel faint, and in the back of his mind he could hear his mother screaming for him. Once more he grabbed for his wand only for Voldemort to shove him violently against the wall. “Idiot boy!” he snarled.

The two got the dementors’ attention. Still holding Harry to the wall, Voldemort turned to the dark creatures. “Dementors, you know who I am. We are common allies of the Dark Side, move aside and allow me passage to my followers. We have our agreements.”

Harry felt a mixture of frozen and physical pain. His mother was screaming inside his mind. He started to feel faint. He needed to reach for his wand. He needed to think of something, anything good. But it was impossible. He was surrounded by monsters. The dementors stared then slowly drifted away, taking the worst of the cold with them as they went to torture some poor prisoner.

He looked to Voldemort, who already continued to climb the stairs. He led Harry to the top two floors. They stopped at an old iron door that creaked noisily as Voldemort pushed it open. The two walked through, and Harry grimaced as he looked around. It was a dark place with only a few torches lighting the dark stone corridors that seemed to go on forever to Harry’s left and right. The cells around him had heavy iron bars and a small slit for a window, through which thunder roared and lightning struck. The lightning illuminated the cells, revealing its prisoners for only brief moments. But it was all Harry needed to have fear consume him.

They looked like empty shells. Empty emancipated shells with haggard long faces, caved in cheeks and matted, dirty hair. There was a man standing directly before them. His eyes looked bulged out, empty of emotions except for a pained look of fear. The end of Voldemort’s wand lit and he led Harry to the man. The man winced at the light before his bulged out eyes stared and focused on the Dark Lord. They widened, his cheeks stretched as a hopeful look forced itself through the empty shell. “My Lord?”

Voldemort smirked down at the man. “Yes, Travers, it is me,” the Dark Lord said. He looked back at Harry, “Do you know who this man is?”

Harry shook his head.

“My Lord….”

Voldemort ignored Travers as man stretched out a long boney arm.

“This man, Harry, was an important follower of mine, he has killed many in my name,” Voldemort said. Harry suddenly remembered that he has indeed heard of Travers before. He looked at the man and frowned.

“You were one of the Death Eaters who Karkaroff named,” he said.

“That traitor!” Travers snarled. “My lord, please, if you will let me out and I will help you—I have only done all to please your will.”

“Indeed, you were useful in the war before,” the Dark Lord said, “and you may have use now… if not just fodder.” He glanced over to Harry as he said that. “This man has killed and will kill again,” he said. “You will let him out or… will you add him to your darling list, my son?”

Harry bit his lower lip as he looked between the two. It would be better, so much better, with Travers dead. However deep down he knew that he could not kill him, not now. This place felt like a great dampener… every emotion inside him, even his anger, felt restricted, smothered by a great depression that filled his soul. Voldemort saw his inner torment and laughed.

The Dark Lord moved on, Travers reaching out and begging for him to return. Harry gave the man one last glance before following him. They moved down a couple cells before stopping in front of another man. He looked similar to the first, but his eyes looked different. They looked angry instead of Travers’ glossy hopelessness. He recognized the Dark Lord immediately. “My Lord,” he said, getting to this hands and knees, bowing.

“Lestrange,” Voldemort said. “Rodolphus Lestrange.” He glanced at Harry, “He along with his wife and brother were very loyal servants. One of their more shining moments is when they both driven two members of the Order insane from torture…” A sadistic glee took over Voldemort. “I am sure you know of them… The Longbottoms.”

Harry felt his breath leave his body. He stared at Lestrange, and he felt a small fire burning inside him despite the depressing numbness. His hand twitched and started for his pocket. Voldemort saw this and continued, “Tortured both hours on end… first as interrogation, then it turned into pleasure… in fact, it was a little after I’ve attacked you, Harry. They missed their Lord and they wanted to find me… even if it means making your friend’s parents insane.”

Harry’s hand was in his pocket, he was slowly pulling out his wand. “However… you will not kill them,” Voldemort said. “The Lestranges are useful to me… and you would not like the consequences if they end up dead, Harry.”

Harry did not feel afraid, strangely enough. He just looked at the Dark Lord, their eyes meeting. “What if they die from a cold, _father_?” he asked, glancing back at Lestrange. “They all look deathly ill. Surely you will not punish me for natural causes?”

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “It would be a shock if they died from natural causes,” he said, “along with being highly suspicious.”

“My Lord… your son?” Lestrange said, looking between the two of them.

“Yes Rodolphus, rejoice, for not only am I gifting you freedom, but also my heir…” Voldemort smirked. “He is rebellious, but I am sure you and your brother will set him straight… and if not, then we will have Bellatrix on him. Speaking of…” Voldemort continued down the corridor, Harry following him quietly. They stopped five cells down, where a woman was. She looked to Harry madness personified with her long hair, and eyes that never lost any anger. She looked like herself, far from the shell that Travers was. “Here she is… my most loyal of subjects,” Voldemort said.

“My Lord!” the woman gasped. “Could it be…” She rushed from her corner to the cell door, getting on her knees. Voldemort stretched his hand through the bars, and she kissed it with revere. Voldemort smirked at the display of deep respect.

“Bellatrix, my most loyal follower,” Voldemort said.

“I knew you would come my Lord, I just knew… I never gave up my loyalty to you,” Bellatrix Lestrange said.

“I know, and because of your loyalty, I am here to free you all,” Voldemort said. He turned to Harry. “You will free them, Harry.”

“Harry…Harry—” Lestrange looked from Voldemort to Harry, her eyes growing large as she spied the scar on his forehead. “Harry Potter! My Lord—”

“Yes… it seems that you have missed quite a bit, Bellatrix,” Voldemort said. Harry looked between the two of them. He seemed to treat Bellatrix differently than all the others. He was kinder, as kind a monster can be, gentler… and the way she looked at him. Harry’s stomach rolled. “Potter is no longer a problem,” Voldemort said. “Quite the opposite in fact… for he is now my son and heir… as well as your nephew-in-law.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Bellatrix, that your family and mine are now forever interlinked with the marriage of my son Harry, who carries my blood, and your nephew Draco. It is a shame that my son plays the role of wife… but still I am sure that he will be a strong wife, just as his Aunt Bellatrix.”

“Auntie Bellatrix,” Lestrange repeated. A cruel smile curled on her face before she started to laugh. “Auntie Bellatrix! You hear that boy? I’m now your Auntie, Potter!” She laughed some more as Harry felt his stomach roll again. He did not want this woman out of her cell, far from it.

“Yes, so be a good nephew, Harry, and let your Aunt out of her prison,” Voldemort said with some mirth. He handed Harry his wand. Harry took it and could feel the hatred flowing from the wand. He glanced up at Voldemort. _He possessed me to kill Nott Snr. … but I have to free his followers voluntarily. I could kill them… so much hate, I can feel it._ He pointed the wand at Bellatrix Lestrange. _So much power and hatred. I can feel it inside me. Is it the Horcrux inside me?_

“You know the words Harry…” Voldemort hissed in his ear. Harry did not hear him come close. “You have the power. Say it…”

 _I do have the power,_ Harry thought. _I have the power to do whatever I want. I can force this wand to do anything… I can kill his followers._ He kept the wand trained on Lestrange. He opened his mouth just a picture of Draco flashed through his mind. _Patience_ , Harry thought. His wrist flicked slightly away. _“Bombarda Maxima!”_

The walls of Azkaban shook and began to break apart. Bellatrix’s cell was now completely free to the elements. Thunder and rain rushed in as the ceiling and outside walls crumbled around the top floor. Harry gave the wand back to Voldemort and turned to leave. Voldemort was silent but Harry knew he was staring at him as Bellatrix laughed. “Thank you nephew Potter!” she laughed, “Such a good boy for Auntie!”

Harry closed the iron door and ran, disappearing into the darkest shadow he can find… and appearing in an unfamiliar dormitory.

The boys in the dormitory were sleeping, all the beds taken. Harry ignored them all except for one where a teen with platinum blonde hair laid. “Draco,” he said, rushing to his love. A light was turned on. The others rose groggily to see Harry standing by Draco’s bed.

“Harry… how did you get in?” Draco yawned.

“That doesn’t matter, I need to ask you quickly, it’s important,” Harry said. “Will there be more than enough?”

“What do you—”

“Will there be more than enough? Incase we need more than sixteen…” Harry said.

“Yeah there should be… why?” Draco asked. “Did something happened?”

Harry glanced back to see Blaise and Theo staring at the two of them, confused. “Father took me… and together we broke his followers out of Azkaban,” he said. “Including Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Draco frowned, “That is far from good,” he said. “But there is nothing we can do now. The potion still needs about two weeks.”

“Would that be enough time for them to recover from being surrounded by Dementors?” Harry asked. “It was horrible there Draco, it took everything I had not to summon my Patronus.”

“Why didn’t you summon it?” Draco asked.

“He threatened me,” Harry said. Draco sat up. “What do you mean?”

“He said that it wouldn’t be good if the Lestranges die… good for either of us,” Harry whispered, leaning forward so Blaise and Theo couldn’t hear. “I destroyed the ceiling and top part of the jail.”

Draco looked lost in thought for a moment. Harry bit his lip worryingly as the only sound in the room was their breathing, and Crabbe and Goyle’s snoring. Draco slipped out of his bed and hooked his arm around Harry’s waist. “Come with your husband, babe,” he ordered. Harry nodded and they both stood up.

“I’m sleeping with my husband tonight,” he told Blaise and Theo, “don’t worry.”

The two shrugged and returned to bed. Draco led Harry out of the Slytherin Dormitory and through the common room into the dungeon. It was dark out, not even the prefects were outside patrolling the corridors. Harry and Draco made their way to the seventh floor, going towards the Room of Requirement. “I want us to be alone,” Draco said. The door appeared, and Draco carried Harry inside.

The Strangler was brewing in the middle of the room. The packages were on the shelves as Draco left them, as was the blackboard. However, the room looked bigger, a bed tucked away in a corner. Harry immediately went to the cauldron and looked inside to the potion. It had a sickly green color and was odorless. Draco followed him before patting his back, “I want to try something,” he said. “I got you some special… toys in order to prepare you for me.”

“Toys?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded. “I thought it would be good to distract you from what happened. I was going to show you tomorrow, but we can at least look at what I got for you tonight, Harry.” He escorted Harry to the bed and have him sit down. Draco went to the shelf and took down the bag before joining Harry.

“The first is special underwear,” Draco said, pulling out the pair of leather panties. On the inside, where Harry’s butt would be, was a thick, but small, plug. “I want you to wear this whenever you can, boy,” he said, taking an authoritative tone. “My cock is much larger, you know, but this will be a start.”

Harry had a small blush and took the panties from Draco. “I talked with the shopkeeper when I brought it,” Draco continued, “you do not need to worry about any bodily extracts. Powerful charms are placed on this to keep you clean, babe.” Harry sighed in relief. He glanced at Draco and pushed his shoes off with his feet.

“Can I wear this now, Sir?” he asked.

“No boy,” Draco said. “This is for daywear. I want this in your pretty hole while we’re at classes. And when classes are done… you can practice with this.” He pulled out a dildo that was just a little smaller than his cock. Harry took it and examined it. “I still want you to be tight, naturally,” Draco smirked, “I also got one that’s thicker than my arm, but we can talk about that stuff later.”

Harry chuckled and waved the dildo in front of Draco, “Trying to tell me something, husband?” he said, happy that he can actually smile after the night’s events.

“Yes, my dear husband, I’m turning that hole of yours into a proper pussy,” Draco said, “how else will you carry our kids?”

“With my arms of course,” Harry said. He placed both back in the bag and laid down. “I needed this,” he sighed. “I just… it was hard in there.”

“I can imagine,” Draco said, joining Harry on the bed. “Dementors everywhere, along with my Aunt…”

Harry gave a chuckle. “It was only because of you that I didn’t go mad,” he said. “I kept thinking of you, and my friends, but mostly you.”

Draco smiled at that and kissed Harry. “I’m glad that the thought of me can fight even the Dementors,” he said. “But for now I think we both just need to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Harry yawned. “We have a lot to do… poisoning the Death Eaters, dealing with my father… not to mention Umbridge.”

Draco barked out a laugh, “We going to poison Umbridge now?”

“Who knows, maybe,” Harry shrugged. “But if she becomes annoying it can happen…” Draco chuckled.

“What a cute serial killer you will be,” he joked. Harry laughed and they both took off their robes and clothes before getting under the covers, sleeping in each other’s embrace.


	6. Amends

Chapter 6

Amends

News of the breakout broke quickly. The morning’s version of Daily Prophet had the faces of the Death Eaters freed facing back at him. There was a disturbed tension in the air of the Great Hall, and Harry couldn’t help but feel guilty as it continued. His stomach started to bubble, and he started to feel hot. A rage built inside him as Hermione showed the Daily Prophet to him, and the paper blamed Sirius Black. Then, a thought raced through his head. _It’s my fault._ It’s Harry’s fault that Sirius is being mentioned once again. It’s Harry’s fault that Sirius is being blamed and roped together with the Dark Lord. It is Harry’s fault that the Death Eaters are out of Azkaban.

This was all Harry’s fault.

He stood up abruptly. “Harry?” Ron asked.

“Bathroom,” Harry lied. He hurried out of the Great Hall and to the nearest empty bathroom. He emptied his stomach in a toilet and leaned against it, anger building inside him. Anger towards himself, as well as Voldemort. He took his time to even his breathing and wash himself to make sure his mouth did not smell or have bits of sick on it.

When he returned to the Great Hall, instead of going back to the Gryffindor Table, he moved to Draco. “Harry, are you okay?” Draco asked, “I saw you walk out.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said. He looked between the spot between Draco and Goyle expectantly. Draco turned to Goyle. Goyle sat oblivious. “Move, you fat idiot,” Draco snapped.

Goyle jumped and shimmied down the bench, making room for Harry. The Gryffindor sat down without a comment and looked around, saying a quick “Hello” to Zabini and Theo, staying quiet to the others.

“Um hello Harry,” Daphne said.

Harry ignored her. Instead, he turned to Theo, a sympathetic look gracing his face, “How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Fine... just fine,” Theo said slowly. “It’s just,” he sighed, “I don’t know.”

Harry nodded. “You know... Ron’s worry’s about you,” he said. Theo perked up. “He is!?”

“Yeah, he is,” Harry nodded. “It might help, you know, if you two talk together.”

“Does he know that—”

Harry shook his head, “No, but he sees that you’re sad and don’t know how to approach you.”

“Oh, I see,” Theo said. He looked uncertain for a moment before looking at Harry, “Then I’ll go talk with him,” he said.

“I’ll come with you,” Blaise said, shrugging, “Granger looks lovely today after all.”

Harry gave him a surprised, yet stern look. Blaise Zabini laughed and smiled, “I promise not to do anything without your permission, Harry Malfoy!” he said.

Harry did not comment. Instead he remembered why he was there and turned to Draco. “Will it be ready?” he asked in a serious tone.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked.

“In three weeks,” Harry continued. “Will it be ready in three weeks?”

“Oh that, yes it will,” Draco said. “I’ll need your help with it of course—”

“After class,” Harry interrupted. “I want to work on it every day after classes.”

“Done,” Draco said.

“What are you guys talking about?” Theo asked.

“Harry! Will you stop ignoring me,” Daphne said, “You’re being so rude!”

“Husband stuff,” Harry said vaguely, looking at Theo. “Anyway, not that it matters, but Ron and I really gotten into eating pumpkin pasties—especially tarts. And Hermione can be rather straight-forward with us gorging on it.” He stood up and stretched, “I’ll see you later,” he told Draco, kissing him and leaving.

He felt a little better, even Umbridge caused little harm to his mood as he had a goal in mind: Finish the potion and make the Death Eaters pay for his mistakes. Harry’s focus turned to working on the potion. He and Draco started to spend more and more time in the Room of Requirement. Due to the potion and different schedules, it was difficult for Harry to schedule the next class of the D.A., not that that was a priority on his mind.

Theo decided to talk with Ron the same day that Harry talked with him after classes. He and Blaise made sure to visit the kitchen, and Theo had the house-elves get him two pumpkin pasties. He found Ron with Hermione, Harry and Draco. Harry and Draco walked away together, and the boys swooped in onto the two Gryffindors. “Ron!” Theo smiled.

“Theo! Uh hi,” Ron said, looking between him and Zabini. “Long time...”

“Yeah, can we actually talk?” Theo asked, “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Umm,” Ron glanced at Hermione awkwardly. He looked like he wanted to go, but not leave Hermione by herself.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine by ourselves, right Granger?” Zabini said, smiling at Hermione.

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked. She gave Zabini look and turned to Ron, “Don’t worry about it, I forgot I promised Ginny she can borrow one of my hairclips. I’ll see you in the common room.”

“Uhh if that’s okay, then sure,” Ron nodded. He turned to Theo and gave him a huge, goofy grin. “Come on!” he smiled. He walked away with Theo, Hermione walking in the opposite direction, leaving Blaise by himself.

Theo and Ron walked along the courtyard, wrapped in their heavy cloaks. Theo held out the two pumpkin pastries to Ron, “I heard that you like these,” he began.

“Thanks,” Ron said. Now that it was the two of them, Theo couldn’t help but feel an uneasy awkwardness between them. It reminded him of their previous meetings.

“So... do you think I’m just another Slimy Slytherin?” Theo asked.

Ron stopped. He glanced at Theo. “I’m... I’m bisexual,” he said.

“I know, and I’m a gay slimy Slytherin,” Theo said. “I wanted to know, where we stand.”

“Where we stand,” Ron repeated. They stopped walking and stared at each other. Staring at Ron, Theo couldn’t help but notice how cold it was outside. There was snow on the ground, the sun shining and reflecting on the fallen snow. Their cheeks reddened, but Theo didn’t know if it was because of their feelings or the weather. Their eyes held something that the other couldn’t imagine.

Ron broke the silence between them. “I think... I mean... you’re better than... a slimy Slytherin,” he said slowly.

Theo smiled. “I hope so,” he said. “And you’re better too, than a foolhardy Gryffindor.”

“Thanks?” Ron said questionably, although the blush on his cheeks deepened. “I uh couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you, actually,” he confessed. “I mean—I had _things_ during the break... bad things but when I went to bed, yeah, all I can think of...” Ron couldn’t finish his thought.

Theo gave a sigh, “I feel the same,” he said. “This break was just awful... and all that let me get through it was you.”

“Your parents? You said you hated them, yeah?” Ron said. Theo frowned.

“Yeah, I hated them,” he admitted. “However, over the break... something happened.”

“What happened?” Ron asked. Theo was silent. He looked around and moved to the nearest bench to sit down. The stone was cold against his body. He shivered at the contact, and felt Ron sit next to him.

“I hated my father more than my mother,” he began. “But still, when something like this happened, all my hatred just went away.” He decided to just let it out. “My father died over the break. Killed by You-Know-Who.”

Ron’s hand immediately went to hold Theo’s. “My dad got hurt really bad doing stuff against You-Know-Who,” he said. He squeezed Theo’s hand.

“I don’t know how to look at it,” Theo admitted. “I cried; I was broken. I wanted… I actually wanted to tell him about you, Ron.”

“Me?”

“Tell him about you,” Theo nodded, “… and my feelings for you. Prove him wrong. He said that I’ll never find love being gay. I wanted to show you to him and tell him that he was wrong.”

“You... you love me?” Ron asked blankly, staring at Theo with a strange look.

“I think I do,” Theo said. “I like being with your, out talks were nice. It’s nice not having to constantly try to outwit or out sass someone like it is with the rest of Slytherin. And there is only so many times I can stand listen to Greengrass moan that Harry doesn’t like her anymore—even though she still doesn’t understand that it’s all her fault.”

“You like me,” Ron repeated.

“Yes, I do,” Theo said. “Do I need to say it explicitly for you to understand Weasley?” He said in a small annoyed voice. He rolled his eyes and turned to face him. “Ron Weasley, for some reason I like you. I like you, I like your voice, I like how you feel next to me, and I like how my thoughts about you calmed me down during the worst of times. So yes Ron, I like you—”

Ron smashed his face against Theo’s, their lips colliding sloppily. When Ron moved away, Theo shook his head, “I like that I’ll have to teach you how to kiss properly,” he added before moving a hand to under Ron’s chin, “Like this, Weasley,” he breathed and kissed Ron, his movements graceful as their lips slid across each other’s Theo’s tongue darting out to taste Ron’s lips. When they separated, Ron was grinning proudly.

“Well let’s hear you say it, Ron,” Theo said.

“I thought my kissing was good enough!” Ron argued.

“Far from it, I spilled my feelings for you Weasley, now please tell me yours so I can stop thinking about my father,” Theo said.

“Fine Nott, I love you,” Ron declared. “I love you, and I think I might just wife you.”

Theo shook his head, “So bloody confident you’ll be on top,” he muttered. “Either way, thank you.”

“For what?” Ron asked.

“For distracting me,” Theo said. “I still don’t know how to feel about my father. I’m sad that he’s dead, but he was also a Death Eater. I hated him, hated You-Know-Who but yet… I’m happy that now I have you. And when the time comes, I’ll make sure to wife you up.” He gave a smirking chuckle which caused Ron to gasp.

“As if!” he shouted.

“Just eat your treat,” Theo said, “it’s cold, but I think I can last a little longer.” Ron nodded and pulled out his wand, “Watch this,” he said. He gave his wand a small wave and a small fireball shot out of it, dancing between the two of them to warm them up.

“See, you’re already a good wife making sure his husband is nice and warm,” Theo said.

Ron blinked at him, “That was a joke,” he said.

“… Yes Ron, it was,” Theo said. “Please tell me you know what a joke is.”

“I do!” Ron said defensively, “just didn’t take Slytherins to be jokey.”

“Well how else do you expect Harry and Draco to be married at this point?” Theo said, waving his hand, “It certainly isn’t because they’re all so serious and argue all the time.” He shook his head, and took a bite of his own treat, “Anyway, how is your dad doing?”

“Good, he’s coming back any day now from the hospital,” Ron said, “You won’t believe who I saw one day when I visited!”

“Who?”

“Lockhart! Remember that bloke!” Ron said. Theo’s eyes went wide. “Yeah, yeah!” Ron said, and he started into a very enthusiastic tale of how he, Hermione and Ginny wandered around St. Mungo’s, and ran into their old professor.

And so, January started to melt into February, when Harry Potter was contacted by his father. It was a Sunday, the poison was ready, and as Harry woke up, there was a rolled up note waiting for him.

_Harry,_

_You will arrive at Yaxley’s home precisely at four in the afternoon. Do not mess up, or else you will have fatal consequences._

Harry found that he was not afraid. Instead, he rolled up the note, got dressed, and as the others were only groggily falling out of their beds, Harry made his way to Dumbledore. He ran down to the second floor, where he made his way to the corridor that had a statue of a gargoyle at the end of the corridor. Harry knew, from previous years, that the gargoyle guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. However, as he slowed down the closer he got to the gargoyle, Harry realized that he did not know the current password.

“Open up, it’s important!” he said to the gargoyle, “Please!” The gargoyle did not move, and Harry started to think of candy names. “Acid Pops. … Fizzing Whizbee. … Sherbet Lemon. … Just open up!”

“I am very curious about what is so important, Mr. Potter, that you are trying to get into Headmaster Dumbledore’s office.”

Harry turned to see, much to his disgust, Professor Umbridge standing in front of him. She was dressed in her pink cardigan, a large bow in her hair and in her arms was a stack of papers. She gave Harry a fake toad-like smile.

Harry found that his mind was still for a moment from shock, and lied, “I need to talk about something important with him.”

“Oh, do you... and what is so important, Mr. Potter, that it cannot wait for after breakfast, where the rest of your fellow students are?” Professor Umbridge asked.

“An important manner that is between Dumbledore and I, Professor,” Harry said quickly, “and why aren’t you downstairs eating breakfast either?”

“You do not get to question me, Potter!” Umbridge said angrily. “I am High Inquisitor of this school and I have every right to do whatever it is I please. Now as for you, you better get away from that gargoyle and return to the Great Hall where you belong before I add more detentions upon your sentence!”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, however the gargoyle behind him leapt to the side and footsteps sounded behind him. “Ahh, Harry, and Professor Umbridge,” Dumbledore said. “I was not expecting such an early commotion outside my office.”

“Sir, I need to talk to you, it is important,” Harry said quickly, turning away from Umbridge. Dumbledore studied him for a moment before nodding.

“Very well,” he said, “we will talk briefly in my office, but, I am sorry Harry, but I hope you can make it quick. I find that the house-elves put extra effort into their cooking on Sunday mornings, and I would like to have my daily eggs with oatmeal.”

“Erm, yes, sir,” Harry said. He stepped forward only for Umbridge to say, “As High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, I request to sit in this meeting. If the matters involve the school, it is my duty to address it.”

“Thank you for being so committed to your duties, Delores, however the matters that Harry and I need to speak of are personal, however I am more than willing to speak to you on several focuses where the school might improve on,” Dumbledore said. “Harry...” Harry nodded and walked past Dumbledore and up the spiraling staircase.

Dumbledore was a moment behind him, and as Harry opened the door into Dumbledore’s office, the gargoyle in front of the staircase jumped back to its original position. Harry waited until Dumbledore was fully in his office, and the door was close. “He sent a letter to me, Voldemort,” he said. “You told me to keep you updated on when I’m going on these missions.”

He handed Dumbledore the small piece of paper. Dumbledore read it and gave it back to Harry. “Yaxley… Yaxley,” he muttered. He looked at Harry with a hesitant gaze. “I must admit that I did not expect the weeks to fly so quickly,” he said.

“What should I do?” Harry asked, even though he had his own plans. “How should I talk to him?”

“Be cautious, vigilant,” Dumbledore said. “This meeting is set to put you in the Death Eater’s good graces, however, and it pains me to ask something so dangerous of you, I wish that you would try to gather information, evidence that we can use to help us survive these trying times. Even if it is something we can use to prove to the disbelieving public that Lord Voldemort is back.”

Harry nodded and a thought occurred to him, “Sir, why can’t I tell them?” he asked. “I saw him many times.”

“I see that you are avoiding the _Daily Prophet_ ,” Dumbledore said. “Sadly, the horrible slanderous streak against you and I is still on-going. Those who know the truth are being silenced, and the rest would rather live in a safe delusion, rather than face the harsh reality we now live.”

Harry nodded. He stood up and said, “I’ll try to get as much information as I can. I’m going to go tell Draco now. He’ll be both worried and angry if I go without telling him.”

“Yes, of course,” Dumbledore nodded. “Which reminds me, I never did give you a congratulations over your nuptials, though I wish that it was under better circumstances.”

“I know,” Harry agreed. “Draco and I agreed when we are older, we’re doing it again, a proper wedding, where it’s more than just Death Eaters.”

“A lovely idea,” Dumbledore smiled, he chuckled, “and I will expect an invitation of course, if you still remember your old headmaster at that time. It is good to have plans like that Harry, for the world’s horrors are never eternal. We will get through this, you will see.”

“Thank you sir,” Harry said. He turned to leave, only for Dumbledore to stopped him one last time, “Harry, just so you do not get into another screaming match with the gargoyle, the password is Chocolate Frogs. I’ve had a sudden craving for them ever since the term started.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, and he left.

Umbridge, thankfully, wasn’t waiting for him as he left the spiraling staircase. He went to the Great Hall, as he was hungry, and it was still breakfast time. As he sat down, Ron asked him what he and Hermione wanted to do.

“Well, maybe we should prepare for the next D.A. meeting,” Hermione suggested.

“That sounds good,” Harry said, needing a distraction until the time for his meeting, “but uhh I can’t in the afternoon... Dumbledore asked me to do _something,”_ his voice got low, “and I don’t know when I’ll be back from it.”

“What!” Ron yelled.

“Shush!” Harry said.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, “When did this started?”

“Today—look, I’ll tell you guys tonight, I promise,” Harry said. “I’ll be alright, it’ll only be a couple hours at most.”

“Okay then,” Hermione said, although she still looked worried.

When Harry was finished, he stood up, “I’m going to say hi to Draco,” he said, “I’ll meet you guys in a second.” Now a common sight in the Great Hall, Harry strolled from the Gryffindor Table to the Slytherin Table and sat down next to Draco. As he kissed Draco good morning, he slipped the note into his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco read it as Harry talked with Blaise and Theo. The two stood up and excused themselves.

“Today,” Draco said as they went into the Room of Requirement. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Harry nodded. They went to the cauldron in the middle and looked inside. The Strangler was complete. It looked clear, like distilled water, and there was no smell wafting from it. The two smiled at each other and took their time making sure to carefully fill vial after vial of the poison. When they were done, they had around thirty vials full stored in a cabinet. Harry took one and slipped it into his pocket.

“Good luck,” Draco said and he pulled Harry into a deep, long kiss, his hand snaking up Harry’s shirt, grabbing and teasing his chest. Harry moaned, but pushed away. “Not now,” he panted. “I promised Ron and Hermione that I’ll spend time with them.”

“Alright then boy, this time it’s allowed,” Draco said. “However next time your Master wants your body he’ll get it, understood?”

“Yes Sir,” Harry moaned as Draco twisted his nipple. Draco smirked and let go, patting his chest. “Then go poison Yaxley, boy,” he said. “The old man deserves it.”

The morning lasted too quickly for Harry’s liking. Like Hermione said, they spent it preparing for the next D.A. meeting, as well as talking with other Gryffindors in the common room. At a quarter to four, Harry excused himself and left the common room, turning a corner and entered the nearest closet. He did not bother turning on the lights, instead he stared at the red eyes. “Bring me to Yaxley’s home,” he demanded and walked into the darkness, the vial of the Strangler clutched firmly in his pocketed hand.


	7. A Deadly Meeting

Chapter 7

A Deadly Meeting

Yaxley lived in what would be considered a modest house. For such an old and proper wizard, Yaxley’s home was located in the middle of a small town. It was impressive, towering over all others with it’s vast gated garden and high rooftops. Harry appeared in the front room of the house, stepping out of darkness. It was a cozy room nicely decorated with flowers hanging around the walls. Harry took a few steps forward before a house-elf appeared.

It bent low to Harry, its nose almost touching the floor, “Master Yaxley is expecting you,” the house-elf said. It straightened up and turned around, waiting for Harry to follow him. He led Harry through a door to the right that opened into a long hallway that was filled with different portraits that held, what Harry assumed, Yaxley’s ancestors. They all looked down on Harry, their nose held up as if he smelled horrible. The hallway held many different doors separating the portraits, however the house-elf led Harry towards a large white door at the end, which opened into a large sunroom. Windows made up the walls, dark green ivies growing down the wood that separated the window planes as other plants were laid around fashionably, their colors mixed together, making a splendid visual for the eyes as, outside, hedges walled around the bottom of the windowed walls and the sun’s rays rained through, illuminating a white-clothed table. The table had a full tea set already placed, trays of treats stacked high, hovering over one another, a kettle already pouring tea for the one other occupant in the room. On the side, between two tall ferns, was what looked like a miniature old stove, on which a second large kettle was sitting.

Corban Yaxley sat in an elegantly crafted wooden chair. He wore a set of deep purple robes and his hair tied in a neat braid as he gave Harry an unpleasant smile through his hard features. “Potter, come in,” he said, not standing to meet Harry. The house-elf bowed and stepped to the side.

Harry walked to the table, and took a seat, sitting in the only other elegantly carved wooden chair. “I hope you do not mind we have tea in my solarium, it was a good day outside and I hate to waste it.”

“Um thank you…” Harry said. “The sunroom looks nice.”

There was a twitch in Yaxley’s eyebrow. “Indeed,” he said. “This _solarium_ has been in my family for quite some time. It was built by my great grandfather, Alastair Yaxley for his wife, Lycoris Yaxley nee Black. Most of what you have seen here is a product of her care, as well as the care of all women after her in the Yaxley line. Everything you see around is the product of tradition, a proof of the importance of lineage, and the dangers of its collapse.”

“Oh...”

“The hallway you’ve walked through too, is proof of the importance and superiority of lineage,” Yaxley continued. “Tell me Potter, do you know your family?”

“You mean my mum and dad?” Harry asked.

“No,” Yaxley said shortly. “I am talking of the Potter line, a strong line of purebloods, even if they hold the wrong opinion of purity, until James Potter married the mudblood Lily, your mother. But even then, you Potters have shown many mistakes throughout your line. For example Henry Potter, who thought during his time that it was better to help muggles during their silly Great War than leave them to their devices. And before him, Abraham Potter, a disgraceful American who was one of the first Aurors. However… it was your father, James Potter, who disgraced the Potter name the most when he married the mudblood, resulting in you, Harry. Tell me, have you any idea about the great and long history that was before you? A strong lineage of Potters, famous for their own rights and mistakes, only to become diluted in the form of you…”

“No, I do not,” Harry said, tightening his fists under the table.

“Shame, to think that the son of our Dark Lord knows nothing of his own lineage,” Yaxley said. “Our Lord was so graceful to save your blood from dilution, and you mock it by not knowing its significance.”

“There is no difference,” Harry shrugged, “blood is blood.”

“Blood is blood—blood is blood! Are you daft, boy?” Yaxley said, his voice turning harsh. “You, a Pureblood thanks only by the grace of our Lord—married to Malfoy, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! You are placed in a great seat of superiority and privilege—and all you can think of is that the blood is meaningless!” He sat back in his seat and rolled his neck. “Tea… yes, I did invite you for tea… and you came here to apologize,” he muttered to himself. He snapped his fingers and the kettle floated to Harry’s empty cup, filling it. A couple small finger sandwiches also made their way onto the small oriental plate that sat next to the matching teacup. “Well Potter, where is your apology?”

Harry had forgotten all about the pretenses of why he was there. He was so wrapped around the poison that it took him a moment to remember that he was supposed to gravel in front of Yaxley for forgiveness. “For the wedding,” he said, “I guess I do owe an apology.” He stretched his arms over his head and took the teacup, taking a small sip. “I just wanted to get out of there,” he said honestly. “However, I supposed I could have taken that a little more gracefully. You see, I just wanted to be a good submissive to my husband. Treat him right, touch him right, fulfil his ever need like a good submissive—of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that Yaxley.” Harry sipped his tea while Yaxley glared at him, fuming silently.

“You dare—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, placing his cup down. “I’ve forgotten my place it seems. Yes I am Draco’s submissive husband by marriage, I am rather submissive in general when he is around, but that only applies with my husband. To everyone else, including my father, I am hardy, stubborn, and I tend to speak my mind and do my own actions without others’ approval. You may think this is horrible of me and yet I am still here, alive.”

“Only because of your father’s graces!” Yaxley said.

“Or, because I am more useful to my father than you or any follower can be,” Harry countered. Yaxley raised his eyebrow at this.

“You? More useful than us, who have spent years of our lives devoted to him!” Yaxley said. “You are delusional, boy.”

“No, no I don’t think I am,” Harry said, his voice growing dark and heavy. “I know that I am much more important, more useful to Voldemort alive.”

Yaxley gave a small jump. Harry chuckled, “What? Even you are scared of my father’s name?”

“No, I am shocked that you would show so great disrespect to our Dark Lord!” Yaxley said.

“Disrespect?” Harry questioned, “Fearing to say his name is disrespectful? News for me.”

“Do you know nothing, child!”

“If I don’t, maybe you should teach me,” Harry said, “look at it as my groveling... teach me what I am supposed to know, and how I am supposed to act.”

“Arrogant child,” Yaxley muttered. “However, if it is to stop you from being an embarrassment, I will.”

“Thank you, Yaxley,” Harry said. “My father, our dark lord, will be nevertheless pleased to hear about this. And perhaps you can help me impress him?”

“What a sudden change in attitude,” Yaxley pointed out.

“I’m just trying to act as a good submissive son,” Harry said.

“Good.”

“You know, my father trusts me, and yet he keeps things secret from both of us,” Harry said. “I think we can help each other.” He took another sip of his tea and started to eat the small finger sandwiches. They tasted awful, but he did not let his face show it. “For example, I know that my father is planning something, something to do with the Ministry, however he would never tell me.” Harry said. “Particularly, it involves the Department of Mystery. Something is in there that he wants.”

“Oh? And how do you know this, Potter?” Yaxley asked.

“Because when he was training me, he always talked about the Department of Mystery, and what _Dumbledore_ was looking for,” Harry said. “However it seems obvious that it is the reverse. The Dark Lord, my father, knows that something is in the Department of Mysteries and yet cannot get to it.”

“Clever, or a lucky guess,” Yaxley said. “I can only guess.”

“Clever, Yaxley,” Harry said. “I am not a person who’ll pretend to know more than he does. Why do you think I asked you for information?”

“Because you are desperate, so desperate, to get back into your fathers’ good graces,” Yaxley said.

“Or maybe you are trying to get into his better graces—but no, I am doing this only because the Dark Lord asked me to,” Harry said. “I am an obedient son, after all.” He took another sip and finished his first cup.

“That remains to be seen,” Yaxley said. Harry resisted to roll his eyes as the old man still kept his charade up. _I hate people who believe they’re smarter than they are,_ he thought to himself, _it makes them so annoying._ He gave a sigh and shook his head. “My cup is empty,” he mentioned.

“Shame,” Yaxley muttered. “Then refill it.” Harry reached for the kettle and poured more tea.

“I’m curious, what do you know about my father?” he asked, “What made you join with him?”

“Lineage,” Yaxley said, leaning back in his chair. “The Dark Lord represents a return to tradition and superiority that both our culture and Ministry have forgotten. We are cursed by filthy mudbloods and disgusting half-breeds. Werewolves, half-bloods, disgusting creatures who have no right in the wizarding worlds.”

“I am a half-blood,” Harry said.

“No, you are not, you are a pureblood thanks to the graces of our lord, or have you forgotten?” Yaxley said. “We must return to our greatness, to our purity. It is what best for Wizarding kind. The Half-bloods can stay, as long as they do what you have done and renounce their muggle half, while mudbloods must be dealt with. This was a belief that I grew up, that all Sacred Families grew with, and so it must become the truth. The Dark Lord understood that, he knew the future of the wizarding world, and how pure it must be. We will return to our traditions, return to what made our kind great and powerful, and so we will bring in a new age of perfectionism!” He looked passionate, his fist held high as he spoke, as though grasping for the heavens. Harry drank his entire cup before putting it back onto the plate rather loudly.

“So it is because of this that brought you to my father?” he asked. “When?”

“I was young and just graduated from Hogwarts,” Yaxley said, “the Dark Lord was just starting to rise, and I was young and influential, and the Dark Lord took me in, raised me up to becoming who I am today. We laid low for a few years; his followers grew. We were all branded with our Mark,” Yaxley pulled up his robe sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark on his inner forearm, “and I never was so proud. The Nineteen-Seventies came, and we began our war for posterity. We were at a height of power. All Dark witches and wizards, all creatures banded together under your father, our Dark Lord. We’ve killed muggles, mudbloods, and left our mark. Eleven years of fighting, until, of course, he vanished for a time.”

“And you did not look for him,” Harry interrupted. “You, like Draco’s father, denied to ever work for him. With Mr. Malfoy, it would make sense, he was very important, and he had Draco to worry about. But you? Why did you deny my father when he disappeared?”

Yaxley went silent. “I figured that I would be more useful... for our Lord... if I remained outside of prison cells,” he said after a long tense moment, which he filled by drinking from his teacup and refilling it twice.

“So you used your money to make sure that you were seen as innocent,” Harry concluded. “A shame Yaxley, to think that one of my father’s oldest follower would be a coward.” He reached for the kettle and filled his cup, “Empty,” he frowned.

Yaxley started to stand, but Harry shook his head, “I’ll refill it,” he said, “It is a what a good son and spouse would do.”

“Umm yes, of course,” Yaxley said, clearing his throat.

“Speaking of, Draco told me that you ran into him while he went shopping,” Harry said conversationally. He moved to the stovetop and saw that the water inside was charmed hot. He glanced back at Yaxley, who was watching him. “He said that you thought he was suspicious.”

“After what happened at your ceremony, of course I did,” Yaxley said. “Both of you have insulted the Dark Lord. And he was buying venom, not to mention other nefarious potion ingredients.”

“Oh those,” Harry chuckles, “Like my husband told you, they were for me. My body feels so good now,” he gave a little moan. “If I was the sharing type, I would show you my pretty boy pussy—but I’m afraid that both my Daddy and Father would disapprove of that.”

“You insolent child!” Yaxley yelled. Harry turned and chuckled to himself as Yaxley went on a rant of how horrible he was acting. Harry was able to slip his potion and filled the teapot with it, mimicking as though he was moving water from the kettle to the teapot. “I’m sorry, but it was your fault for being so nosy in my husband’s business,” he said as he returned. “Besides, all of this is necessary if we are to continue not only the Malfoy line, but the Potter and my father’s lines as well.”

“Then why must you phrase it so vulgarly you child?” Yaxley demanded. “I must talk with your father about your perverse behavior.”

“Of course,” Harry said. He filled Yaxley’s cup as well as his own. Placing the teapot back onto it’s platter, Harry sat down and lifted up his cup. “However, I would rather you did not, we want my future pregnancy to be a surprise. Besides, you did not share with me what it is my father is looking for.”

“A weapon, however, from what I hear it is more than that,” Yaxley said. “He is looking for something specific in the Department of Mysteries; a prophecy that ties you and him together.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Yaxley smirked at Harry’s bewilderment. “Shocked silence I see,” he chuckled. “You should consider being silence more often, you are much more agreeable that way.” Chuckling to himself, Yaxley drank his cup.

Harry quickly composed himself. “A prophecy about me and Voldemort,” he muttered to himself. “That is what he’s looking for.” Harry placed his cup down and had another finger sandwich. He looked at Yaxley and smiled, “This was rather informative,” he said, “thank you very much Yaxley.” He stood up and gave a short bow. “I am sorry for all my misbehaviors, and I hope moving forward, that we work together towards our goals.”

“Yes, of course,” Yaxley said, giving a short chuckle. “It is nice to see that you can be properly whipped into shape, Potter.” He stood up and stepped around the table. Yaxley took Harry’s hand and squeezed it hard, “Who knew that you could be such a good traditional spouse,” he chuckled.

A dark look glinted in Harry’s eyes. “Of course,” he said, “I always do what I need to do to protect my interests.” He let go of Yaxley and turned around, “Draco, my family, my friends... I would do anything and everything to protect them,” he said, as he left. “Even if it requires me taking down my father and taking the title of Dark Lord myself. In fact, you can tell him that yourself, if you like.” He stopped at the doorway and turned with a cold smile, as he felt rather full of himself and cocky, “I’ll be telling him as well, but my own lovely version of it. Which one do you think he’ll believe more? The old follower, or his son and horcrux?”


	8. The First Deaths

Chapter 8

First Deaths

Harry went to Dumbledore at the earliest convenience to give him a modified version of the events that happened with Yaxley. He left out all details of his poisoning. When he finished talking about the prophecy Yaxley mention, Dumbledore leaned back with a frown. “So he wants to hear the full version,” he muttered.

“Full version?” Harry asked. Dumbledore looked up, shocked out of his thoughts.

“Yes, so sorry Harry,” Dumbledore said. “It seems that everything is moving dangerously fast. However, I can say with certainty that there is a prophecy that binds you and Lord Voldemort together.”

Harry thought he would be scared, but instead he asked calmly, “Do you know it?”

Dumbledore, surprised by the calmness, nodded. “I had hope to tell you during the summer, hoping that activities would die down, however I believe it would be best to tell you now, to save us both from future dangers and preventable deaths.” He leaned back and examined Harry momentarily before saying, “You might recall almost four years ago, you’ve come into Hogwarts and when in June, you asked me why it was that Lord Voldemort have went after you and your parents, I have decided not to tell you, deciding that you are too young, too innocent at the time. And I did not want your childhood naivety and innocence to be cut so short. I was hoping that you would have a normal education, just as you had a normal childhood, however it seems that each year seem to come to prove my hopes wrong one way or another.

“You must understand Harry, that you were not chosen at random. None of what happened all those years past and since happened because of chance. It all happened for a reason, and that reason was years ago in the small pub of Hog’s Head. I was there to interview a hopeful for the recently open position of Divination professor. I did not have very much hope, I must admit. I always thought the subject lacking. We were ending the interview, and I was almost at the door when something peculiar happened. The hopeful professor made an honest prophecy. I remember it clearly as when I heard it that day.

“ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....”_

Dumbledore finished, and watched Harry for his reaction. Harry stayed in silence. Harry had a thoughtful expression for a while before looking up at Dumbledore. “In the end, it will either be me or him. We have to kill one another. But why me?”

“Because Lord Voldemort has chosen you, not as his apprentice, or surrogate son, but when you were an infant. His decision that night to go after you. That was when he unknowingly marked you as his equal. However, you should know that Lord Voldemort does not know the full prophecy, which is why he is very interested in taking it from the Department of Mysteries, I would gather. In his haste to tell his Lord of the prophecy, the Death Eater who overheard us did not stay to hear the prophecy in full, and thus Voldemort does not know that it was he, not chance or prophecy, that marked you as the one able to defeat him.”

“Because I have love,” Harry said, sounding a bit doubtful.

“Precisely!” Dumbledore said, “Because you have love, Harry, you have a drive that Voldemort will never understand.”

“But still,” Harry continued, looking doubtful, “even if I defeat Voldemort now, he will come back right? Because of his Horcruxes.”

“That is a difficult question,” Dumbledore frowned. “It is true that Lord Voldemort will truly not die until his Horcruxes are destroyed, however I do not know what would happen if his current body would be destroyed. I would think, however, that a situation similar of what happened four years ago would happen. He would be left weak and bodyless, left to wonder as a spirit halfway between life and death.”

“If he was like that, would he try to search for his Horcruxes... use them to regain a body?” Harry asked, a little fearful as he thought about himself.

“If you are wondering if he will possess you, then that I do not know,” Dumbledore said. “I could give a guess, on both spectrums, that he will or will not attempt to fully possess you Harry, however at this time I feel they would only be empty words.”

“I see,” Harry sighed. He looked at Dumbledore with a strange, thoughtful look. “Thank you,” he said.

“Of course, I hope that I did not give you too much to worry about,” Dumbledore said. Harry shook his head.

“No,” he said, “Sir... is it okay if I tell Draco everything?”

“Yes, I believe it is,” Dumbledore nodded. Harry thanked Dumbledore and left the office. He ran around the castle looking for Draco, finding him near the dungeons. Without a word, Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him away from the group of Slytherins he was with, until they were alone in a classroom. There, he told Draco everything about his meeting with Yaxley and the discussion he had with Dumbledore afterwards.

“So what now?” Draco asked when Harry was finished. Harry looked at him for a long moment.

“We wait for Yaxley to die,” he said, “but in the meantime…” Harry’s voice died out, his hand moving to hold his chest. “There is a part of him inside me, the horcrux. A part of Voldemort’s soul.”

“Do you want it out of you?” Draco asked.

“If we kill Voldemort before destroying all of his Horcruxes, then he will be left a spirit wandering about. He could possess me. I hate the idea of him in my body, controlling me without knowing it. Which is why I want to absorb it.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked.

“The Horcrux inside me,” Harry said with confidence. “It is part of my body. I want the power that is inside it.”

“Damn love,” Draco said slowly, “okay, I’ll help you out, my sweet submissive.”

Harry smiled, “Thank you, but I don’t have the faintest idea of how.”

Draco took a step and wrapped his arms around Harry, “That is alright pet,” he said, “I think I know where we can go to find out, or at least have an idea. There’s a Hogsmeade visit on Valentine’s Day, we can use that to go.”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, “where is it?”

Draco smirked, “Not telling,” he said. “Come on, I think you’re hungry after eating that awful food with Yaxley.”

“Starving,” Harry chuckled, and they walked away smiling.

Three days passed. Yaxley was in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He had a meeting that just finished and was on the way home. He stopped suddenly. His hands went to his throat, he felt a tightness that strangled all airwaves. He couldn’t breathe. Yaxley staggered and fell to his knees, still holding his throat as he tried in vain to have one breathe. He started to feel lightheaded, his skin lightened and turned blue until—in an instant—he fell, and never moved again.


	9. Deathly Research

Chapter 9

Deathly Research

Valentine’s Day came quickly. Harry was surprised as he, Ron and Hermione sat at Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, when Theo came over and sat next to Ron, the ginger kissing the Slytherin’s cheek. “Good morning,” Theo said to Hermione and Harry, “hope you don’t mind, but I kind of want to have breakfast with my boyfriend.”

“No problem,” Hermione said.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “So, do you two have plans today?” he asked.

“Just going to walk around Hogsmeade,” Theo answered.

“And stay far away from that icky couples shop,” Ron muttered, his face scrunched up. “You seen it right Harry? It’s full of hearts and couples snogging and sitting close together—it’s awful.”

“Ron, honestly,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Anyway Harry, do you have anything planned today?”

“Draco and I are going shopping,” Harry said. “There’s something important that we need to get.”

“Oh, I see,” Hermione said. She looked a little disappointed at the thought of being left out. Harry frowned at this and asked, “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah of course, I’ll just spend some time with Ginny,” Hermione nodded. “I have other friends than just you two, you know,” she gave Harry a smile. Harry nodded, and looked relieved. “But you know,” he couldn’t help but saying, “if you want, I think Blaise is left by himself too.”

“Oh, I know,” Hermione said with a straight face. She stood up and said, “Anyway, we better be leaving soon, I’ll see you guys later,” and she left without another word.

“Leaving? We barely ate breakfast,” Ron said.

Theo sighed and shook his head, “You’ll learn about it when you’re older Ron,” he said, patting Ron’s back. Harry chuckled. Ron just gave him a confused look. The three ate breakfast together, Harry enjoying talking with Theo, and when he was done, he stood up himself and smiled at the two of them, “I’m actually going to my husband now,” he said, “I’ll talk with you two later.”

“Later Harry,” Ron said.

Harry gave Ron and Theo a smile and wave and made his way to the Slytherin Table. Draco stood up and met him halfway, the two leaving the Great Hall together. “So my pet,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist, “are you ready?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, “Where are we going?”

“A French shop in the outskirts of the country,” Draco explained, “it holds the Darkest Objects and books that I know of. Father brought me there frequently during business.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, “but how are we getting there?”

Draco smirked at him, and squeezed Harry’s side, “Look at my hand, boy,” he commanded. Harry did and saw that Draco was wearing an old ring with a dusty, faded pearl. “A Personal portkey,” Draco said. “All you need to do is play with the pearl, and you will be taken away to the store. We’ll leave in Hogsmeade.”

Harry nodded and wrapped his arm around Draco’s, the couple joining the line of students leaving for the Hogsmeade trip. The line moved slowly, however Harry and Draco were approved easily, and they were on their way to Hogsmeade. It was a chilly February day, the sky was thankfully clear and sunny, however the winds kept the couple huddled together for warmth. The walk to Hogsmeade took a little over half an hour because of the coldness. As soon as they were in the small village, however, Harry and Draco broke off from the crowd, Draco leading his husband down between two houses. Draco checked behind them to make sure they weren’t followed before taking Harry’s hands on his. “Hold on tight,” he commanded and started to fiddle with the pearl ring.

Harry felt a sharp pull, and soon felt like he and Draco were being pulled into the air by an invisible fishhook in their navels. The scenery spun around them, mixing and morphing together into an endless blur that changed colors. Harry looked at Draco, who nodded, and they both kicking their legs around as if they were walking. The spinning slowed and they began to fall, however, unlike the last times Harry used portkeys, he and Draco sort of floated down to the air, holding hand as they looked to be walking on air.

They landed on a stone path in front of an old building covered with ivies and plants and surrounded by countryside. The building looked abandoned, without any signs or even a hint that it was a shop. Draco led him to the door and knocked three times. The door opened by itself, and Harry gasped as they walked into a building that looked far much bigger on the inside.

A high ceiling fitted with five candle chandeliers hung above them. Shelves upon shelves expanded on either side, all fitted with books, objects, and ingredients that Harry has never seen before. People walked around openly, speaking with one another in various languages that Harry only half-recognized. Nobody wore cloaks or tried to hide their identities.

Draco smiled and pulled Harry to a book on a display, and opened it to a page, “Look at this,” he whispered, “Later on, we can have a child with this,” he pointed to a potion that would make Harry able to bear children.

“Wait ten years,” Harry said. “All I want so far is to get the power inside me.”

“Of course, my pet,” Draco purred. “So,” he said, changing to a more business-like tone, “what exactly is a Horcrux? As far as you know.”

Harry nodded, “A Horcrux is an object, or in this case me, that holds a piece of a person’s soul. From what I understand, I have a piece of Voldemort inside me, a fragment of his soul. I don’t know how to touch it or feel it inside me. It’s like not physically in me but still, it is in there. From what I remember, Voldemort made a lot of Horcrux, one of them being a diary I’ve destroyed three years ago in the Chamber of Secrets.”

“So it’s a piece of soul you’re trying to absorb,” Draco said, nodding slightly. “That is extremely dark magic, way more advance than what I know personally. What about you?”

Harry thought for a moment, “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “He taught me a lot of things, but nothing that affects the soul. I think we’ll need to do more reading, find books about the darkest spells.”

“Sounds like a good start, pet,” Draco nodded. He looked around for a moment, “Then we’ll need the books section, possibly rare tomes. Which is…” His eyes darted around before landing on a section of bookcases in the far corner. “Over here,” he smiled, taking Harry’s hand and leading him. Harry worried that people would look at them, however as they walked through the shop, he was surprised to see that nobody looked their way. They reached the section and immediately they began looking around. After a few minutes of browsing the titles, an old man stepped up to them. “May I provide assistance, young wizards?” he asked in a high voice.

“Um yeah actually,” Harry said, glancing at Draco, who walked up and placed a protective arm around Harry. “We need to find books about souls, and more importantly Horcruxes.”

“Horcruxes!” the old man squeaked out, his eyes bulging out. “You—you want to—”

“Learn about Horcruxes and how to absorb their power,” Harry finished for him. “So, I need books about Horcruxes, how one is made, and how I can absorb the soul and power inside.”

The old man stuttered. He stared at the two, as if waiting for one to smile in a joking way. Yet they kept serious. He continued to stare. Harry stared back before asking, “Will you help us with this or not, sir?”

“Oh! Oh,” the man blinked, “Yes erm—there is one tome I can think of yes... very rare, very dangerous, and so, very expensive.”

“I’m a Malfoy, money is no problem,” Draco said.

Harry shook his head, “I’ll pay for this one,” he said, looking up at Draco. “Please, sir?”

“Ye—”

“Not you,” Harry said to the old man and looked back at Draco. Draco chuckled, his hand moving to hold Harry’s neck seductively. “Of course, my pet, if it pleases you,” he purred.

Harry smiled and glanced at the old man, “Then like my husband said,” he said with a cold smile, “We have no problem with money. Give the book to me.”

“Y-Yes! Right away,” the old man said. He walked over to a nearby shelf, glancing at the two fearfully, and pulled off an old book with a black leather tome with faded letters that read _Magick Moste Evil_. He handed it to Harry, glancing at Draco to see if it was okay to even give the boy directly the book. On top of that, he added a couple more books, _Magicked Souls_ and _Siphoning Souls: Enchantments and Charms to perform on Souls._

“H-here you are,” the old man said, “The three best books for this. …”

“Good,” Draco said. “You may leave us now, we still have more to buy.”

Harry nodded and held the books, moving away from the old man. An hour later, they found three more books, including one book called _Secrets of the Darkest Arts,_ that looked interesting, and moved to buy them. The old man found them again behind the counter. He silently bagged charged them. Harry paid, not even paying attention to the price, and as they walked out, Harry leaned into Draco and smiled. “I think next time I should have my collar,” he hummed. “That would freak the old man out even more, don’t you think?”

“Of course pet,” Draco chuckled. He looked at his watch and smiled, “Shall we have lunch at the Three Broomsticks?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Harry nodded enthusiastically. Draco pressed his wand against Harry’s neck, and the boy felt the familiar weight of black leather encircling his neck.

“Better, now we can go,” Draco smiled. The bag shrank and Harry pocketed. They held close together and Draco activated the Portkey.

They appeared right where they disappeared, and holding hand in hand, with his collar visible to everyone, Harry and Draco walked the streets of Hogsmeade, and into the busy Three Broomsticks. There were glances, obviously, and stares when the students realize what it was that Harry was wearing, but nobody seemed brave enough to ask. Harry waved when he saw Fred and George with Cedric. The twins saw Harry’s collar and gave him a huge grin and thumbs up, causing the younger teen to smile proudly. They went to a corner table and sat close to each other. “Stay boy,” Draco commanded, “I’ll be back.”

Harry nodded and pulled out one of the books as Draco left to get their drinks. It was the first book that the old man gave them, and he leafed through it idly as he waited.

“Harry!”

Harry looked up and grimaced. Daphne Greengrass stood in front of him, looking somewhat uncomfortable and awkward. “Hello,” she said.

“What do you want?” Harry demanded. “We’re not friends anymore.” He looked back at his book and continued to skim.

“Yeah well—I just wanted to see if we can talk,” Daphne said. “It’s over a silly reason that you’re still mad at me—and everyone else is on a date—even Zabini is with that mudblood Granger—”

“And that is why we are no longer friends Greengrass,” Harry said casually, not even looking back up at her. “You are disgusting, hateful, and extremely prejudice.”

“Excuse me!” she gasped, “That’s funny coming from you. Look at your father—”

“James Potter was a man who fought for what he believed in, meanwhile Lord Voldemort is a ruthless monster who needs to be overthrown,” Harry said. He looked up at Greengrass, his emerald eyes cold and hateful. The girl flinched at the stare alone. “You seem so fearless talking so openly about stuff like this,” Harry said, glancing around the pub. “So full of students, so full of people from Dumbledore. Just one word and you’ll be in trouble, Greengrass.” He chuckled and shook his head, “Not even mentioning what my husband will do when he catches you here.”

“I’m not scared of Draco,” Greengrass said. “Besides both of you are being stupid! Granger’s just a mudblood! There is no reason to be angry at me for stating that fact!”

“Although there is reason to be angry at you for so many other things, including using the word ‘mudblood’,” Draco said, approaching them with two bottles of butterbeer. He pushed past Greengrass and sat down with Harry, opening a bottle and handing it to his boy. “Greengrass, unless you have forgotten to take a hint, we are on a date,” Draco drawled. “So please, go away.”

Greengrass gapped at them before huffing, turning away looking angry and dejected. Draco shook his head and turned to his love. “Anything interesting?”

“Not yet,” Harry said, “this book only have a glancing mention about Horcruxes from what I see, although talking with Greengrass actually made one thing certain for me. It’s something that I’ve been thinking about for a while, actually.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Draco asked.

Harry closed the book and sighed, “When we’re done with all of this, when we are done getting our revenge, I will take Voldemort’s place as Dark Lord.”


	10. Fatal Consequences

Ch. 10

Fatal Consequences

“I will become the next Dark Lord.”

They were still in the Three Broomsticks. Harry looked serious, full of conviction as he stared at Draco, who was stunned for only a moment. His shocked face turned slowly into a smirking smile. He reached out and grabbed Harry’s hands in his own. “In that case,” he said, staring directly into Harry’s eyes, “I’ll support you every step of the way.”

Harry smiled.

“However,” Draco said, his smirk tightening, “there is no way I will call you ‘My Lord,’ Harry. You will always be my pet, my husband, and my sweet, innocent, submissive.” He breathed out the last words, their lips connecting. Harry melted under Draco’s touch. He moaned against Draco’s lips, accepting his tongue, and allowing his husband to take full control.

They separated, and Draco looked down at the book, “So, how are we going to do this?” he asked.

“First we have to control the Horcrux inside me,” Harry said. “This book doesn’t have anything specific about Horcruxes,” he said, indicating to _Magick Moste Evil,_ “and we have a lot of books to look through.”

“Why don’t we split it in half?” Draco asked. “How many books do we have all together?”

Harry looked at the bag next to him and counted, “About six so three each?” he suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” Draco said. He split the books, and said, “Obviously it’ll be difficult, I mean not only will the magic required must be higher and more difficult that any average wizard to do, but just finding it will be hard. There is no way we can just walk openly into the Great Hall and read these.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. Knowing his housemates, Harry would be kept to reading these books at night in his bed, and even then there won’t be any guarantee that he’ll remember or retain anything he read. He gave a sigh, “This is going to be harder than the potion,” he groaned.

“Yeah, but we’ll get through,” Draco said comfortingly. “In the meantime, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing.”

Harry agreed and pulled the books away, putting them in the two stacks for himself and Draco. After pocketing the bag, the two relaxed and conversation moved to more light and mushy topics, as though there was never any plotting or discussion of Dark Lords and Horcruxes. It was late afternoon when they decided to go back to the castle.

On their walk back, Draco and Harry saw Fred and George ahead of them, they were both holding onto Cedric Diggory. “I forgot about them,” Draco muttered.

“Huh?”

“I forgot the Weasley twins were dating Diggory,” Draco said. Harry giggled and pulled Draco to walk faster, “Come on,” he said, “I want to talk with them for a bit.”

The two walked faster until they caught up with the three of them, and Harry smiled sweetly, “Hello,” he said.

“Oh, hello Harry,” Cedric Diggory said, “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Harry said, “I’ve been surprisingly busy.”

“With the D.A.?” Cedric asked.

“Oh yeah, when’s the next meeting of that by the way?” Fred asked.

“We haven’t figured that out yet,” Harry said, “Today was more of a relaxed date day for Draco and me.”

“Same for us,” Cedric smiled, “my boys treated me so nicely today.” He hugged the twins closer, and kissed both their cheeks. “We just wandered around Hogsmeade buying stuff, how about you two?”

Draco smirked, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist in a possessive manner, “We actually got out of Hogsmeade to do some _special shopping,”_ he emphasize with a wink, “isn’t that right pet?”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, before a laugh burst from his lips as he tried to stay serious. “We went shopping and had lunch at the Three Broomsticks,” he said between laughs.

“That’s cute,” Cedric smiled.

“So, you being a good boy for Malfoy, Harry?” George asked.

“George!” Cedric yelled.

“What? Harry is the one who came to us about being a good sub,” George said defensively. “Besides, we’re open about the stuff we do, right Cedric?”

“Only because you two are brats who need a firm hand,” Cedric muttered. “And it’s the only thing keeping us all sane from Umbridge. Harry—would you believe that she tried to ban me from Quidditch!”

“Stupid bitch,” Fred grumbled.

“That’s horrible, why?” Draco asked.

“Because of my boys,” Cedric answered. “We were in her class and Fred and George… were being Fred and George.”

“We can’t help it, I can’t stand that woman!” George yelled. “UMBRIDGE IS BETTER OFF DEADBRIDGE!” The students around them stopped for a moment to stare at George, shocked at his yelling declaration, however, as Harry looked around, he couldn’t see anyone looking at him with horror or anger. Instead, it was a silent agreement that they did not wish to openly show or support, but Harry still caught the hesitation or pride in their eyes just the same.

“Will you shut up George! Are you trying to get yourself expelled?” Cedric said, glaring at his boyfriend.

“Not that it matters anyway,” Fred said. “Right George?”

“Yeah, just a few more weeks then everything will be ready,” he smiled.

Harry looked at the two confused while Cedric rolled his eyes, “What do you mean?” he asked.

“We’re getting tired of this education stuff,” Fred said. “I mean, you teach us better than anything Umbitch—”

“Fred!”

“As I was saying, Umbitch or Snape could ever teach us,” Fred continued, despite Cedric openly giving his butt a warning slap. “George and I have decided to take our little business into a much larger field.”

“You mean your jokes stuff?” Harry asked.

“Exactly!” George smiled. “We’re already in talks about getting a place in Diagon Alley! We have the money for it and any renovations, in large thanks to you Harry, and now we just need to wait for it to finalize.”

“So you two are opening a shop?” Draco said with some approval.

“Yeah,” Fred nodded. “Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes!”

“We’ve been making stuff for the past couple of years, so why not,” George explained with a shrug. “Besides, honestly like we said before, you’re the best teacher we ever had Harry. Fred and I just aren’t cut up for education, and we have a better business sense to be honest.”

Draco raised his eyebrow at this.

“What about you, Cedric?” Harry asked, looking at the Hufflepuff. “What are you going to do after Hogwarts?”

“Well during the career advice meeting during my fifth year, I kept talking about getting into professional Quidditch,” Cedric said with a thoughtful expression. “Seeker obviously. Who knows, I might get on the same team as Wood, though before that I would love to beat you in a game once.”

“As if,” Harry said, “I’ll always win, right Draco?”

“Whatever you say, pet,” Draco said. There was a strong gale of wind and Harry flinched at it, looking up to see the clouds started to thicken. “It looks like it’s going to snow,” he said, “we should hurry up.”

“Good idea, come on boys,” Cedric said. The five hurried along the road back to Hogwarts, talking all the way. Flakes started to fall as they reached the grounds, the younger students running back. The flakes started to thicken together as the wind picked up, and as the small group finally reached the covered courtyard, snow was billowing down at an alarming pace. “Lucky we got here when we did,” Cedric said, rubbing his hands together. “See you two later Harry, Malfoy.”

“Yeah, see you,” Harry nodded. He looked at Draco and held him tightly. “I love you,” he muttered.

“Where did this come from?” Draco chuckled.

“My heart,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, we have some time before dinner right? I want your help with homework.”

Homework involved kissing. A lot of kissing, which Draco didn’t mind. They moved to the Room of Requirement, and actually did some studying between the heavy touching. It was almost midnight, the house-elves brought food for them since they missed dinner, and Harry was lounging on an old red chaise lounge, reading _Magick Moste Evil_ with a notebook open before him while Draco was reading _Magicked Souls._

“Pet,” Draco called out, looking over his shoulder, “what do you know about souls?”

“Not much,” Harry said, “Just that from what the books say, it’s absolutely forbidden to mess with them. However Voldemort did somehow and created his Horcruxes.”

“Listen to this,” Draco said, clearing his throat and started to read, “ _’Souls are immaterial parts of the being. They are said to make up one’s personality: their memories, mindset, and individuality. It is largely debated between muggles whether souls exist, and how it functions, however wizards know that the soul resides in the body as it is the soul that dementors feed on when they administer the Dementor’s Kiss, as well as being the residual after an individual dies known as a ghost. Experimentation on the soul is considered forbidden, with magics dealing with the separation of the soul, known as Horcruxes, being on of the Darkest Arts. That said, there was a group of Light wizards who have researched on the reconnection and absorption of soul pieces.’_ So Soul Magic, in regards to what we need, is actually considered Light magic when this was written,” Draco interpreted.

“That’s surprising, I thought the Ministries all just put all magic they hate as ‘dark,’” Harry said, “I wonder why they would make the distinction.”

“They probably consider it all Dark Magic now,” Draco said, “but I thought that you might find that interesting.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Hmm, nothing specific yet,” Draco shook his head. “It just goes on about what the Soul is. However, it does make the Ministry look hypocritical, doesn’t it?”

“Isn’t it always?” Harry asked. Draco chuckled and shook his head, “Still, there are many spells that affect the Soul that isn’t exactly soul magic. Why are they the exception I wonder?” That question was left unanswered as both boys returned to their books, inevitably falling asleep where they were sitting.

February died away with their endless research. Harry felt that he was no closer to his goal than when he made it. The books all had all these complicated formulas and expressions that took several minutes to unscramble into basic English, and even then Harry had to read and reread several times before he was confident enough to put it in his notes. March roared in with heavy rains and winds, and Harry found his head stuffed with dark arts and complex phrases, fighting with the regular education he was supposed to be getting from his professors. The world seemed to become secondary to Harry in a way. There were still D.A. meetings, yes, and he did hang out with his friends, but in a way, events happened around him with him either ignoring it all together or giving it a glancing thought. Even his second visit for Voldemort, where Harry visited and poisoned an unassuming Death Eater called Travers, seemed to just happen to Harry. His thoughts and life only revolved around Horcruxes and Soul Magic as he fell into a glossy groove that was only interrupted by three events.

The first, happened in the middle of March. Umbridge fired Professor Trelawney, and tried to have her removed from the castle, but Dumbledore intervened. Umbridge was angry, of course, but Harry couldn’t help but the school stayed the same. Professor Trelawney was still there, even though her class was replaced by the centaur named Firenze. There were some students who were heartbroken, but Harry just couldn’t find himself to care. He still had his research to focus on, and the D.A. to relieve any stress that the research built up. That was until almost a month later, in April, Umbridge found out about the D.A.

They were in the middle of the lesson when Draco walked in casually. “Just so you all know,” he yelled loudly, getting everyone’s attention, “Umbridge found out about all of this, and will be here in five minutes. I suggest you run.”

There was panic. The students started screaming and scrambling around, not sure what to do. Hermione and Ron ran to Harry, looking for how to proceed. Harry forced himself to calm down before yelling, “Everyone calm down! Leave the same as always in pairs of twos and threes, do not wait for the coast to be cleared. Younger ones go first.” Everyone stopped to stare at him. Harry stared back, irritated that nobody moved.

“What are you waiting for?” Ron yelled, “MOVE!”

The younger students started to leave, running out the door while Draco leaned next to it, waiting in a very odd calm way as he waited for his husband. Harry ran up to him as he oversaw everyone running. “How did she—”

“You had a snitch,” Draco said. “One of Chang’s friends, Edgecombe I think her name is.” There were screams outside. Draco and Harry ran outside to see older Slytherins running around, trying to catch the students who were fleeing. “THERE’S POTTER!” a voice yelled, and Harry immediately recognized it at Pansy, “Leave the others and get him!” Draco immediately pulled his wand out and stunned Pansy as she ran towards them. The two started to fight the Slytherins as the rest of the D.A. members escaped until it was only Draco and Harry, along with Ron and Hermione. They fought off the Slytherins with ease, until Harry fell when a spell hit his back. Umbridge walked up to them triumphantly. “Well, well Mr. Potter, you have a bit of explaining to do, haven’t you? And you Mr. Malfoy, your father will be very displeased with you after I inform him of your rebellion.” She looked up to a seventh year Slytherin, “Bring the other two to my office,” she said. “Potter, Malfoy, you will follow me this instant,” and she turned around. Draco and Harry glared at the seventh year who walked up to Ron and Hermione.

“You will leave them alone,” Harry ordered coldly, “or so help me.”

The seventh year jumped and nodded, “W-We didn’t want to do this—please don’t te—”

“Shut up!” Malfoy said.

“Ron, Hermione, go and make sure everyone gets to their dormitories safely,” Harry said. “We’ll be alright.” His friends nodded and ran. Harry and Draco turn to follow Umbridge. They followed her up to Dumbledore’s office, where the Minister of Magic was waiting with a group of Aurors.

Harry and Draco almost became background as Umbridge, and Cornelius Fudge went on tirade after tirade about Harry’s “illegal meetings” and stirring rebellion against the Ministry. Harry held Draco’s hand, and found himself recessing into his mind as he thought of more urgent matters. Three meetings he went through so far with Death Eaters. Yaxley, Travers, and most recently, Gibbon, although if Harry was honest, he could only remember Yaxley’s meeting as Travers and Gibbon were so gullible and agreeable that he had no problem poisoning them. Fudge was still yelling, Harry listened in for a moment as the blame shifted from him to Dumbledore. It was now Dumbledore who was raising an army. Dumbledore who planned to overthrow the Ministry. Dumbledore who was going after Fudge’s job. Harry cared, he wanted to defend the headmaster, yet he could not find the words.

And then he was gone.

In a flash of fire and magic, Fawkes appeared, and Dumbledore left Hogwarts, knocking over the Minister and Aurors. Harry felt his heart sink and he turned to Draco. “This can’t be good,” they both muttered.

Dumbledore was gone from Hogwarts. Umbridge was now in charge, calling herself Headmistress Umbridge. There was a tense feeling around the castle. Everyone was skittish, everyone was angry. It felt as though the castle itself was afraid of what was coming next. And yet, while he was angry, Harry fell back to his research. He needed to learn how to control the Horcrux inside him. He needed to learn more about how his father became practically immortal. Two days went by, and this angry nervousness became the new normal. It was Saturday, the beginning of the weekend, and very early in the morning.

Harry jumped awake when the door to the boys’ dormitory slammed open. He was blind and groggy when George’s voice screamed out full of anxiety and grief.

“Ron! Ron! Wake up! He’s dead—oh god Ron he’s dead! Fred is dead!”


	11. Mourning

Chapter 11

Mourning

Fred Weasley is dead. Harry felt a coldness inside him, an emptiness that pulled from the bottom of his soul. He looked between Ron and George, his feet felt heavy and throat filled with concreate as he forced himself out of his bed. Ron did not move. He stayed in his bed, frozen. Harry glanced at George, who gave him a pleading look. Together, they moved to Ron and helped him out of his bed. They held onto Ron’s arms, and they walked slowly, the other boys following silently. They left the dorms and went upstairs, where the other seventh years were all standing, shocked and silent, all staring at the only bed still occupied.

Fred looked oddly peaceful in his bed. His eyes were close, he did not move, at a glance you would simply assume that he was sleeping. But there was a feeling, an aura that radiated from Fred’s body that suggested otherwise. Harry took careful steps, his breath stuck in his throat as he moved towards Fred’s bed. The air around him seemed to grow colder the closer he got. Fred looked so peaceful, sleeping in his bed. But the more Harry stared, the worse Fred become. His skin was sickly pale, unhealthily white with blue lips and sunken cheeks. His eyelids were forever closed, and his hair was still, not as animated as it usually was. However, Harry’s eyes moved to Fred’s neck, where two large holes were. Harry reached out, and there was a spark of magic. Harry gasped and jumped back. “Snake bites,” he whispered. He turned to George and Ron, tears falling, “He was bit by a snake… the same snake that... that...”

George shook his head, and opened an arm, Harry never ran faster, and the three hugged each other, all silently crying. “I told McGonagall,” a boy said, but Harry didn’t hear it. He just cried, he needed to cry. He needed to take all this sadness out of him. He needed to be there for Ron and George.

Professor McGonagall rushed in a moment later, Ginny following after. “My goodness,” Professor McGonagall muttered as Ginny rushed to Fred’s bed and grabbed his cold hand, begging for him to wake up. But he never did. The boys had to pull Ginny off of Fred’s body, and Professor McGonagall took over.

She ordered all of the students out of the dormitory and into the common room. The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione huddled close to each other. They did not talk, just glanced at each other’s sad faces all stained with tears, some still crying. Ron and Ginny held onto George as tightly as they could as Madam Pomfrey rushed in, followed by Filch. The common room was quiet for a moment before the uneasy hushed whispered started. There were glances over towards them, and Harry heard Fred’s name mentioned over and over again. His mournful sadness started to fill with an anger. A hot anger that was directed at all of them. _How could they talk like this?_ He thought. _Fred just died. He’s gone and he’ll never laugh again—how can they just sit there and whisper about it like this?_

His thoughts were interrupted when Professor McGonagall walked in, followed by Madam Pomfrey. “Students,” she began. Her usual stoic features with her thin lips quivered and broke. She clenched her heart as sadness washed over her face. “I am terribly sorry to say, that we have lost one of our own today. Fred Weasley, our source of great foolery and tricks,” she sniffled and tried to smile, but failed. “I’m sorry,” she interrupted, reaching for a tissue from her pocket. She dabbed her eyes with it before holding it. “Fred Weasley is gone. He has passed away overnight. I would like that we keep this quiet for now while I inform…” she took a breath, her face scowling momentarily, “the headmistress,” it went away, “and his family. I thank you all for understanding, and empathy for the Weasley family and friends for this sudden, tragic lost.”

She broke and turned quickly as she hunched over. Madam Pomfrey held her, and escorted McGonagall out. A few moments later Filch left the dormitories.

Without the adults, talk immediately exploded in the common room. Fred’s name was tossed around along with George’s. And though there were many sympathetic looks, much of the discussions around them involved theories on how and why Fred died. Harry’s anger grew and he detached from the others, standing tall as he glared at all of them.

“SHUT UP!” he roared. The common room grew silent as everyone turned to Harry. He glared at them all, “Fred is dead! Gone! And all you idiots can think about is fucking gossip? Do you have any compassionate at all? Or are you all just full of bullshit as you give us your shit-eating smiles and talk nothing but half-hearted lies?”

“Harry,” Hermione said warningly, glancing between him and George. George shook his head and looked up at Harry.

“You’re right,” he said softly, “but.…”

“Sorry,” Harry said awkwardly, going back to his seat. The silence continued, but now it was awkward as everyone just stared at each other, too ashamed to start talking. Harry did not care about them. He only cared about the people around him, and though he tried to return to the original sadness he felt, his anger wouldn’t leave him. It stayed inside him, boiling quietly as he did his best to frown and look as though he was full of melancholy. They did not know how long they sat there, until the portrait hole opened once more, and Professor Umbridge, dressed in all cheery bright pink, walked in. She had her same smile as she looked around the room. “Hem, hem,” she said. She sounded too happy, too cheerful, for anyone’s liking, even those who gossiped glared at her. “Would the family members of Fred Weasley please come with me?” Professor Umbridge said sweetly. George, Ginny, and Ron stood up, along with Harry and Hermione. The group walked towards Professor Umbridge; whose smile stopped when she saw Harry. “I said the family of Fred Weasley, Potter. You are not family,” she said.

“He’s as good as!” George yelled out, “and so is Hermione! They’re coming!”

“I know that these are difficult times, Mr. Weasley, but yelling at your Headmistress is simply prohibited,” Professor Umbridge said in a falsely sweet voice. “I’m afraid I will have to take away fifty points from Gryffindor for that.”

_“Fifty!?”_

“Yes, fifty, now come along Weasleys, and only Weasleys,” Professor Umbridge said, glaring at Harry and Hermione.

“I’m sorry,” George whispered to them, the three looking at Harry and Hermione sadly.

“It’s okay,” Hermione whispered. She hugged George, who squeezed her tightly, before moving to Ron and Ginny, hugging them as well. Harry hugged them as well and he and Hermione stood close to one another, Hermione’s hand finding Harry’s, and they watched as the Weasleys followed Professor Umbridge outside. They returned to their armchairs and sat silently.

More minutes passed, and Harry’s anger did not quell at all. He stood up, causing Hermione to jump. “I’m going to tell Draco and Theo,” he told her, “they should know.”

“Can I come with you?” Hermione asked, standing up as well. “No offense, but I don’t think I want to be alone with them.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, let me go get my cloak.” He left Hermione in the common room and ran back to his dormitory. He moved to his trunk, only to see that his bed was properly made, unlike the other beds which was still disheveled. On the pillow, wrapped in a gold string, was a letter. Harry’s heart sank. His hand shook in horror as he reached out to the letter, pulling the string and reading the familiar handwriting of his father.

_Remember where your loyalties lie._

This confirmed it. His father killed Fred. Lord Voldemort killed Fred. From the bite marks, Harry could assume that it was Nagini would attacked and killed his friend. Harry had to clasp his hand over his mouth to muffle his furious scream. He wanted to hit something, someone. He wanted this anger out of him. But he knew that now wasn’t the time. He had to mourn Fred. He had to tell Draco, tell Theo, what happened. With this in mind, Harry went to his trunk, pulled out his invisibility cloak, and ran down back to Hermione.

The two went out of Gryffindor Tower, and Harry threw the cloak on both of them. “This is unbelievable,” Hermione said in a hushed whisper. “Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place! How could this happen?”

“Hogwarts was the safest place,” Harry said, “then the Ministry drove Dumbledore out. Without Dumbledore to fear, Voldemort has easy access to the castle.”

“How? There are charms—shields—a whole slew of enchantments protecting the castle,” Hermione said, trying to rationalize the situation. “There is no way this could have happened.”

Harry thought for a moment before saying, “The shadows. Voldemort has control of the shadows, and the creatures who live there.” He figured he had to tell Ron and Hermione. They had to be prepared for this.

“But that’s impossible,” Hermione frowned. “How...”

“Because I can control them as well,” Harry confessed. “Because of my link to Voldemort, I could see them, interact with them. Dumbledore knew about this but, we didn’t know he would do something like this... I didn’t know.” Something inside him shook. “This is all my fault,” he said. It was true. All true, he realized. If he and Draco didn’t make that poison, if he didn’t flaunt his power in front of the Dark Lord, didn’t kill his followers so openly with the poison, then Fred would still be here. A tremor shook through Harry and his tears started again.

Hermione grabbed his hand, and the two friends found comfort in each other as they walked. “This isn’t your fault Harry,” Hermione said, “you have nothing to do with this.”

_You’re wrong._

The rest of their walk to the dungeons was quiet. They kept holding hands, even after Harry’s tears dried. He led them through the maze, using his memory of when Draco brought him before. They reached a dead end, and Harry turned to face the wall. “Foxglove,” Harry said to the wall. It shook and vibrated, the bricks moving away to reveal a hole that the two walked through, still under the invisibility cloak. Harry brought his finger to his lips when Hermione opened his mouth and pointed into the common room.

Draco was with his friends, lounging lazily. “How long does Zabini need to change?” Draco grumbled, “I am starving. Crabbe! Go and bring him down!”

“No need, no need, good looks are hard to keep up Malfoy,” Zabini’s voice called out, as he walked towards them, “not that you know anything about that. It is an honest miracle that Harry stuck around with you!” He smiled jokingly.

“My husband is very lucky to have such a handsome man like me,” Draco proclaimed. “And I know that if he was here now, he would punch you for daring to suggest that I am nothing but perfect.”

“Now isn’t the time,” Harry said sorrowfully, taking off the invisibility cloak.

The Slytherins around them gasped in shock, but the three boys in front of Harry stayed as they were. “Good morning my love, and Granger,” Draco said.

“We need to talk with you, both of you,” Harry said, looking at Theo.

“Blaise—I mean Zabini, you should come too,” Hermione said, her cheeks pink. The three frowned, but Draco stood up, immediately taking Harry into his arms, Harry’s hand finally slipping from Hermione’s. “We will speak in the dormitories,” Draco said. “Come along Granger.”

“Right,” Hermione said, showing great courage as she ignored the glares and curious looks the other Slytherins gave her. Thankfully, they did not walk into or saw Pansy or Daphne as they made their way into the boys’ dormitory.

“What happened?” Draco asked.

“Fred was murdered,” Harry said. “He was killed in his sleep… by Voldemort.”

“No,” Theo whispered. He looked around anxiously, “Where is Ron? Is he okay?”

“Ron is fine,” Hermione answered. “He, George and Ginny are with Umbridge. I think Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are here.”

“We tried to go with them, but Umbridge won’t let us,” Harry added.

“I’m going to go wait for Ron then, if that’s okay,” Theo said, looking at Harry and Hermione, who both nodded. Theo ran out.

“Cedric!” Hermione gasped, “Harry, we have to tell Cedric!”

“I’ll go with you,” Blaise said, taking Hermione’s hand. Hermione hesitated and looked at Harry.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Harry said, “there’s something I need to talk with Draco about privately.”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded, and she and Blaise left, Hermione leaning into him as they left the room.

“There’s more?” Draco asked. Harry nodded.

“It was Nagini, my father’s snake,” he said. “he must have used the shadows to get her in here. But, why didn’t I see him? Why didn’t I have a vision to—”

“Maybe he found a way to block your connection,” Draco guessed, fully pulling his husband into his arms. “Like an advance form of Occlumency, mind magic.”

Harry just nodded. “Tonight,” he whispered. “No more waiting. I’m going to absorb the horcrux inside me tonight.”

“Do we know enough to do it—”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT!” Harry screamed, lashing out. “I WILL NOT ENDANGER ANY MORE OF MY FRIENDS! WE ARE DOING THIS TONIGHT!”

“Okay,” Draco said. He kissed Harry’s forehead. “Tonight,” he said. “I’ll be with you for as long as you need me, and then I’ll head to the Room of Requirement, and prepare.”

“I’ll always need you,” Harry whispered.

“And I’ll always need you, my love,” Draco said. They stood in each other’s embrace. “Come on, let’s go meet with the others.”

Harry nodded and Draco kissed his tears away. They left the dormitory, the Slytherins silent when they walk in. “One second,” Harry sniffled. He looked around, “You know who my father is,” he said aloud. “You know what I can do. Whatever happens today, whatever is announced, you _all_ will leave the Gryffindors alone. Or else. I am not afraid of killing any of you in front of everybody.”

Harry did not care or wait for the Slytherins reactions. Instead he tugged on Draco’s robes, and the two left the dungeons.

They found the others waiting just outside of Professor Umbridge’s office. Cedric looked up at Harry sadly while Hermione sat close to Blaise. Draco and Harry joined them, all sitting on the floor as they waited. They all were silent, waiting anxiously for the door in front of them to open. Half an hour passed, and the door finally opened. Professor Umbridge walked out, looking chipper, not even giving the others a glance. Mrs. Weasley appeared in the hallway and everyone stood up. “Oh, Cedric,” she cried out, and rushed to Cedric, hugging him. Cedric held on tight, crying openly now. The others all stood awkwardly as Mr. Weasley walked out, holding his hat as he wiped away a tear. He patted Theo’s shoulder as he passed, and stood in front of Harry, resting his hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing tightly.

The others filtered out, Ron going to Theo, hugging him openly, not caring that people are watching. George went to his mother and Cedric. Mrs. Weasley let go of Cedric to allow the two boyfriends to hold each other. She moved to Harry, hugging him and Draco together. “Ginny told us you tried to come,” Mrs. Weasley sobbed, “thank you Harry, and Hermione—” she turned and hugged Hermione as well. “Thank you both so much,” she cried. “Fred would be… he would be proud.”

“It’ll be okay Mum,” a deep voice said. A tall redhead with thick arms walked out, followed by another older Weasley. Harry recognized them as Charlie and Bill, the two oldest Weasley children. He waited, staring at the doorway for anyone else, but he never came.

“Come here Weasleys,” Mrs. Weasley sniffled, her arms opened wide, motioning for everyone to come closer. Harry glanced at Draco before moving towards her, as did Hermione. Mrs. Weasley grabbed them and made sure they were in the center of the massive hug. She sniffled and looked around, “Cedric love, you too,” she said. Cedric moved closer and hugged with George. The entire Weasley clan stood there, silently blocking the corridor as the three Slytherins looked on. Mrs. Weasley took a shuddering breath, “Okay, okay,” she whispered.

“We’ll be here the rest of the day,” Mr. Weasley told his family. “Perk up Weasleys, we should... we should go.” He swallowed heavily and wiped his eyes with his thumbs. Mrs. Weasley refused to let go of George and Cedric. Harry returned to Draco, and looked at him, “Can you eat with us?” he whispered.

“Of course my love,” Draco said, hugging Harry.

“Malfoy,” Mr. Weasley said awkwardly. He fumbled with his hat and patted his thinning hair. “This uh isn’t the best of circumstances but uh—my boys told me about you and Harry and uh—thanks, it is nice to meet you.” He shoved his hand out.

“Thank you, and I am sorry for your lost,” Draco said, shaking Mr. Weasley’s hand.

“Y-Yeah,” Mr. Weasley’s voice broke. Ron and Theo glanced at each other and stepped up to Ron’s parents. Harry and Draco moved on, letting them have their privacy, as they joined Ginny who was walking with Hermione and Blaise.

“So… you two?” Ginny asked softly.

“Yeah… we’re new,” Hermione nodded. “Ginny,” she let go of Blaise to hug Ginny tightly. Ginny held onto her and the two cried as Blaise walked them softly.

It took a while for all of them to get to the Great Hall. The Gryffindor Table seemed longer than the others, and each professor walked up individually to offer their condolences to the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley kept crying into a tissue throughout, blowing her nose quietly as the entire Weasley clan sat down at the Gryffindor Table, the others all moving to the side to make room. Harry held onto Draco and scowled as Professor Umbridge stood up.

She did not even feign to look sad as she addressed the school. “Hem, hem. Last night we had a horrible accident. One of our students left us, Fred Weasley died last night. The Ministry offers their full sympathy and condolence to the Weasley Family and may we all take this time to reflect on our own family and count our luck that they are still here to bless our lives, for we never know when they will go away.”

Harry glared at Umbridge, but it softened as Mrs. Weasley continued to cry.

“What a horrible woman,” Charlie whispered.


	12. The Death of Umbridge

Chapter 12

The Death of Umbridge

Harry spent the day entirely with the Weasleys. He did not want to leave them alone, and was thankful that Draco understood, as the blonde had preparations to make. When it was dark after dinner, the older Weasleys had to leave the castle. None wanted to leave, and Mrs. Weasley held onto her children until Mr. Weasley had to practically pull her off of Ron and Ginny from their hugs.

Harry walked away from them, his heart hurting, but his resolve to bring this all to an end kept him from turning around. He ran through Hogwarts, up her stairs and through her corridors until he saw Draco waiting in front of a door. Silently, they walked into the Room of Requirement.

They walked into a bare room with their large cauldron full of poison set to the side. In the middle was a sigil of complicated design, a circle with interlocking triangles that filtered into squares and stars. Around the rim of the circle was a Latin phrase that translated into, _“Meld the souls to one and let their powers combine.”_ Harry went and stood in the middle of the sigil and turned to Draco.

“Are you ready?” Draco asked.

“I am,” Harry nodded. He held out his hand. Draco took a knife from his robe pocket and held it over Harry’s hand, he inhaled before bringing it down, slicing a long cut in it.

“Blood of my beloved,” Draco chanted, “may it power these ancient runes, and allow your souls to be one.” He closed Harry’s hand with his free hand and squeezed it, letting the blood drip onto the knife. “Love’s blood coat the steel so that we may be your soul’s armor.” He took the knife away from Harry’s hand and quickly sliced his own hand. Harry held Draco’s bleeding hand, letting their blood mix onto the blood. “Love’s blood coat the steel so that we may be my soul’s armor,” he said.

Harry took Draco’s bleeding hand and opened it, kissing the bleeding wound, licking at the blood. Draco did the same to Harry’s, both their lips being bloodstained before they pressed their lips together. The knife still having both their blood, Draco knelt and angled the knife, so the blood mixture dripped. He traced the Latin phrase, looking up at Harry, who nodded. “Be his sword and shield, allow him to venture to the soul hiding inside him and take its power for his own. Our love’s blood shall lead him, our love’s blood shall defend him; our love’s blood shall conquer!”

The sigil started to glow, and Harry felt a sharp pull inside him. His scar burned as though on fire, and he opened his mouth only scream at the sensation. He fell to his hands and knees before collapsing, the world around him going black.

…

…

…

White.

Harry first noticed white. Whiteness surrounded him. A misty whiteness that seemed to not have formed anything yet as Harry looked around. It was not foggy, nor was it clear. Harry could look through the misty whiteness that surrounded him, and yet there was nothing there. Nothing surrounded him, nothing formed, no noticeable figures or shapes or landmarks. There was nothing. And then, a darkness appeared. A black cloud out in the distance. Harry knew that he had to go there. He walked towards the darkness, the mist moving out of his way forming a path. There was no sound, not even his footsteps, and Harry started to get uneased by the silence. And the whiteness. It was too bright, the more Harry looked at it, the more he came to realize. It was a cold whiteness that surrounded him, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how cold it was. Even his feet started to feel cold against the once neutral floor.

He squinted against the light as he made his way to the growing darkness. The cloud became bigger until it consumed the horizon. The two did not mix Harry noticed as he approached. The whiteness stopped and the darkness began exactly at a detailed line, almost like a barrier. Harry reached it and peered into the darkness, feeling nothing, seeing nothing from it, yet he knew that the darkness was where he had to go. He took a step towards it but felt a restraint. His body felt heavy. The mist gathered and thickened around his feet. He felt its weight and struggled. He opened his mouth to yell “let go!” but gave out a shock when he found he had no voice. He tried to scream, tried to curse, and yet nothing came out. Nothing broke the silence. He struggled, and the mist held on. He reached for the darkness ahead, only for the mist to gather around his hand and try to pull it down. _I need to get through!_ He thought, _let me through!_

Still struggling, Harry gave out a silent gasp as shadow hands reached through the barrier. Harry reached for them, grasping onto one. It was warm, inviting, and Harry held on strong. The other hands circled around Harry, the shadows of the darkness cradling him, driving away the mist and carrying the boy across the barrier.

It was warm, and Harry shivered as he embraced the hands that held him, needing their warmth as the last of the coldness inside him drove away. “Thank you,” he breathed, realizing that he could speak once more.

The hands disappeared, and Harry sensed that a figure was watching him. “I was wondering when you would come and visit me,” a cold high voice said. “Harry Potter… my, what a journey you’ve had.” The man walked closely, and the first thing Harry noticed were the crimson eyes, followed by this two slits he had for a nose and his pale chalky skin. Lord Voldemort stood in front of Harry, his eyes staring at him, and a cold smile appeared.

Harry stood tall and glared at the figure, “You’re the piece of soul, Voldemort’s piece of soul.”

“And that is no way to speak to your father,” the soul laughed, “my word Harry, you look surprised. You and I are one, your memories are mine.”

“But yours aren’t,” Harry said, “I don’t know anything you’ve seen directly. And your power isn’t mine, not all of it, not yet.”

“Yes, that,” the soul nodded. “I know all about your plan. How you wish to absorb my soul, take hold of my powers, and use them to kill your enemies, to kill your father. Usurping the Dark Lord and taking his mantle of Dark Lord.” The Soul shook his head and stepped towards Harry, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulders. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

He should felt fear. He should felt horror at the statement. But instead his heart gave a little pull, and his lips teased a smile, “I know,” he said. “So, will you give me your power, or must we fight for it?”

The soul laughed. It was just like Voldemort’s laugh, high and cold. “I always knew you would do great things, Harry,” the soul said. “Terrible, yes, but great.” He took a step back and looked back at the barrier separating the light and darkness. “You have already made your decision,” the soul said. “The Light suffocates you just as it suffocated me. You are where you belong.” He gave a small chuckle, “of course my power will be yours, now that you know who you are. But just know one thing: Even after you kill Lord Voldemort, I will always be with you, my dear son.”

The piece of Voldemort’s soul laughed as both of them became entangled by dark tendrils. The tendrils connected them and pulsed. Harry felt power flowing into him, power he had never thought of, never felt before. Along with memories, skills, magic that he never deemed possible. Memories of learning how to shield his mind, of how to read others thoughts, and of killing. Countless killings. Harry screamed as every poured into him, filling him with greater magic and years’ worth of practice. His body pulsed with the tendrils, and he lurched forward, giving one final scream—

He was back in the Room of Requirement. Draco was holding him to his chest, “Harry, Harry wake up, please—”

“Draco,” Harry groaned.

“HARRY!” Draco gasped. Harry smiled at his husband and reached for his hand, holding tightly, “It worked,” he said, his voice heavy. “I have it…” his eyes closed again.

Draco panicked before he heard the soft snores of his love. “Sleep Harry,” he whispered, “I’m so proud of you.” He lifted Harry and carried him bridal style to where he belonged. Down in the Slytherin Dungeons, Draco carefully placed his love in his bed, taking care to take off Harry’s clothes, leaving him in just his underwear before he did the same. Safe in bed, Draco kissed Harry once last time before falling asleep with his husband in his arms.

Harry wasn’t shocked or surprised that he woke up in the Slytherin Dungeon. He turned and kissed Draco before an idea popped into his head. He decided that it was time to take up his wifely duties and gotten under the covers and started to play. The two were an hour late to breakfast, but it didn’t matter as Draco made sure Harry had a proper serving of protein before they left.

The new knowledge surged in Harry’s skull, and for the next few days he suffered from constant headaches and migraines as everything started to settle down. The soul’s memories seemed distant, as though it happened in a past life, but the knowledge and power it obtained stayed with Harry. He remembered the Diary, the ring, the diadem, the cup, and most of all he remembered the Locket. He remembered what they were, how they came to be, and where they were all hidden.

It was a week after Fred’s death, almost the weekend, and Harry was looking forward to it So he could take the time to shift through the memories. But before that, Harry had to suffer through a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Umbridge.

It was shockingly hot in the classroom today, and the windows were all closed which left the hot air to stagnant and grow hotter with each new body that walked in. Professor Umbridge seemed unaffected, dressed in her pink cardigan, and bow as always. Harry tried to focus on the boring book in front of him, however as he was about to doze, Professor Umbridge stood from her desk, “Hem, hem.”

The room quietly looked up at her, some glaring and others just staring bored.

“Just last week, we lost a bright student to a terrible thing,” Professor Umbridge said, “The Ministry have informed us to remind you all, that life can be hard, cruel, it can even feel as though the entire world is your enemy. However, turning to substances and abusing them? That is not the answer. Fred Weasley felt the weight of the world, and fell to abuse under it’s weight and—”

“NO!” Harry screamed, standing up. “FRED WAS KILLED YOU MONSTER!” He looked around and saw Ron, his fists curled tightly, his whole body shaking with anger as he fought back tears.

“Mr. Potter you will not interrupt—”

“YOU WILL NOT USE ANOTHER STUDENT’S DEATH FOR YOUR LIES YOU BITCH!” Harry screamed. “FRED WAS MY FRIEND, MY BROTHER! YOU WILL NOT SPREAD SUCH LIES! NOT INFRONT OF ME—IN FRONT OF RON!”

Umbridge glared at Harry, her chest puffing up, “Detention, Mr. Potter. Tonight.”

Harry glared at her. She stared, looking victorious as Harry sat down. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Ron.

“No, I should have yelled too,” Ron whispered back, still looking frustrated and sad. “I just couldn’t find my voice.”

“Honestly both of you need to stop,” Hermione hissed at them. “She’s wrong and evil but—we can’t get into more trouble than we already are!”

Harry nodded. He waited until they were out of their class until he pulled Ron and Hermione to the side. “Guys,” he said, his voice calm, almost icy, “I just want you to know that you don’t want to worry about us getting in trouble. I’ll… I’ll make sure that none of us get into trouble again, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded.

“Okay, just stay safe Harry,” Hermione frowned. “And don’t do anything rash or stupid during your detention tonight—please?”

“Don’t worry Hermione, since when have I ever done anything rash?” Harry asked, giving a joking smile. Hermione gave him a look that caused him to laugh, “I promise I won’t do anything,” he said. Hermione relaxed and the three went on to lunch.

A few hours before his detention, Harry found himself alone in the library lost in his thoughts. It felt weird, planning ahead, however he allowed himself to be surrounded by his voice, and bit by bit he planned the immediate future. This war has went on for long enough, Dumbledore’s methods, he realized, would just let it go on unnecessarily. He was going to end it now. He had the power, the cunning and bravery. He had everything he needed, but before, he just needed to settle a few loose ends. A cold smile graced his face, and he wrote a letter.

_Draco,_

_I love you so much it hurts. I won’t be able to see you this weekend. I’m ending everything and taking my true place. I am done waiting around, it is time to take deliberate actions. The weekend is here, thankfully, and I know that people will be scared that I am not here. I need you to lie, tell them that I am doing ‘wife things’ with your mother. It is a Malfoy tradition that cannot be pushed back. I will be back on Tuesday hopefully, and don’t worry about our potion. We won’t need it anymore._

_Forever yours,_

_Harry_

“Give this to my husband when I leave,” he commanded the shadows, holding the letter out. The shadows came to him, darkening the room to do so, and he felt a warm hand brush against his. Smiling, Harry stood and stretched, it was time to prepare for detention.

His first stop was the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. He went to the sink with the snake on the faucet and hissed with ease, _“Open.”_ The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets opened, and Harry stepped in unafraid, sliding down the large pipe and landing onto the pile of bones. Memories of his second year came and he looked around, those good old days with Ron as they went down here to save Ginny.

Muscle memory brought him to the inners of the chamber, where the Basilisk still laid dead, its mouth open. Harry pulled out an old shirt that he pocketed earlier and stepped towards the dead snake. In its mouth, there was still a fang, and Harry smiled as he saw that it still had poison that pearled at its point. He climbed up the head and took the shirt, wrapping it around the fang and pulled hard.

The tooth popped out with a sickening wet rip, and Harry quickly wrapped his shirt around the fang before putting it in his pocket. The fang acquired, he left the chamber through the shadows, and arrived on the seventh floor.

He walked around the corridor three times, willing the room to appear in his mind. On his third trip, the simple door appeared, and Harry stepped through to see the Strangler still safe in its cauldron. He went to the table and took a small empty vial. He filled it and again pocketed it with the fangs before summoning the shadows. “Voldemort will want me to show loyalty,” he said as the room was engulfed by darkness. “When I call, bring me the cauldron.”

The darkness slowly slipped away, and when light came, the cauldron was gone. Harry took a deep breath and centered himself, it was time for his detention. He went to the Great Hall and acted as though everything was normal during dinner. Harry left early and gave his friends a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine,” he said, “it’s just detention.”

He slowly made his way to Umbridge’s office and knocked. A few minutes passed before Umbridge’s voice called out, “You may come in.”

He opened the door and walked into the office. Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, her hands folded. A stack of papers were to her right with a blank piece of paper, and a black quill, in front of her. “Now Mr. Potter, I believe we must talk about your consistent need of telling lies and further traumatizing the students,” she smiled.

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry chuckled. His wand fell into his hand from his robe, and with a small swish, the door locked. He looked up at Umbridge, red flakes shining through his green eyes. “I think we should instead, talk about you, Umbridge, and how much of a bitch you are.”

“Mr. Potter! I will not—”

“Shut up!” Harry slashed his wand, and the lights went out, rope shot from his wand and tied Umbridge to her chair. “Now, I did my best to ignore you, I really did, but everything you did. I was angry when you discovered the D.A., which was all my group by the way, Dumbledore had nothing to do with it, but I did nothing. But now, everything you did with Fred… it’s too much Umbridge. The world will be so much better without you.”

“Now you listen here—”

 _“Avada Kedavra!”_ The killing curse radiated the room with it’s unearthly green glow. The cats on the plates hanging on the wall all froze and disappeared in fear. Harry’s face was illuminated, his smile growing with a sadistic glee. The light of the killing curse dimmed, and Harry stared at the lifeless body of Professor Umbridge. He gave a dark chuckle and hummed in satisfaction. He looked around and took his time taking the plates off the wall and piled them on a windowsill. He sat next to them and opened the window, “Close all the lights,” he ordered, and watched as the shadows slowly grew in the room, creeping from the open window. He threw the plates one by one out of the window, watching them fall to the ground and smashing into tiny pieces.

The light around him faded, the fireplace was smothered, and lamps died out. Shadows creeped along the walls, covering the room and Umbridge in an unnatural darkness. When the last of the plates smashed against the ground, Harry slipped off to see red eyes. “Take the body to the darkest parts of the Forbidden Forest, let her fall and leave here,” he ordered. The red eyes blinked and moved over to the body. Harry watched as Umbridge’s body disappeared in the red eyes, leaving just the chair dimmed in the shadows. He steeled his heart and stood tall. He walked into the darkness, not needing to tell them his destination.

In the darkness, Harry took out his wand and walked until he stepped out of the shadows and into the reading room where Lord Voldemort was waiting. The Dark Lord smirked at Harry, and stood up from the armchair he was sitting in. “Hello, my son,” he said, “welcome to our home, Riddle Manor.”

“Hello father,” Harry said, “we have a lot to talk about.”


	13. Three Days

Chapter 13

Three Days

“Talk? Why should we talk?” Voldemort asked.

Harry felt something prick at his mind, and automatically he shielded his mind, using the magic he absorbed from the piece of Voldemort’s soul inside him. Voldemort raised an eyebrow but smirked knowingly and proudly. “We’re angry,” Harry said. You’re angry at me, and I’m angry at you. We killed people we cared about, people who were useful to us. I want us to talk, to put everything we did behind us.” Harry swallowed and presented his wand to Voldemort, “I want to show you my loyalty, father.”

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. He took the wand and slipped it into his pocket. “And your wand is reason enough for me to believe you, my son?” he asked. “You did not kill with your wand.”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry said, looking guilty. “My Lord, can I show you an act of faith for you to trust me?” Voldemort nodded. Harry looked around at the shadows, “Bring the cauldron,” he commanded. The shadows filled the room for a moment before recessing back to normal, a large old stone cauldron standing full of a clear poison in front of Harry and Voldemort. “This is all of it, the Strangler. The poison I used to kill your men.”

“Destroy it,” Voldemort said.

“That was what I was going to do, my lord,” Harry bowed. He turned to the cauldron and pushed with all his might. It was heavy and the poison inside sloshed against the sides spilling over. He used all his might until, with a tip, the cauldron fell, cracking into large pieces as the poison gushed out, spreading along the floor, and soaking into a nearby rug. “That is all of it father,” Harry said, turning to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort chuckled and again Harry felt the prick in his mind. “My son, when did you learn Occlumency?” Voldemort asked.

“With Draco,” Harry answered, “since Dumbledore demanded meetings with me, we both feel it would be safe if I learned it. Why father, does this displease you?”

“No, my son, I am surprised,” Voldemort said. “Stand and greet your father properly now.” He opened his arms. Harry stood and went to his father, feeling a chill as they hugged. “This is how it should be, us together as father and son,” Voldemort said. He let go of Harry and sat down, motioning for Harry to sit with him. Harry sat down and the two stared at each other for a moment.

“I want to show you my loyalty, father,” Harry began.

“And you will,” Voldemort said, “but first, I must reteach you of where your loyalty belongs. It is obvious that Hogwarts is giving you too much ideas, too much emotions and attachments. From now on, you will stay here, home, with me. Your husband will visit during school breaks and move into here during longer breaks until he graduates.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded submissively. “I want him to live with us, sleep in the same bed with me. We’re married it’s to be expected. And only when you think it’s right, when we win the war, I want to move out with him.”

“If you prove and keep your loyalty you will have that” Voldemort promised. However, I believe you should be punished for daring to go against your father and Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy is forbidden from this manor until the summer’s end.”

“Father—”

“This is your punishment for killing my men, be glad that I have not considered harming you or your husband instead,” Voldemort said coldly. Harry’s argument died on his tongue, and he just sat back and nodded, frowning. “Good,” Voldemort said. He stood up, as did Harry. Voldemort grabbed Harry’s arm and shoved his sleeve up, frowning when he saw bare skin. “Where is your mark?”

“It was Dumbledore’s idea, father,” Harry said, looking regretful. “He thought it would be best if I kept your mark hidden.” His father’s hand brushed against his arm, and the glamour dissipated, revealing Harry’s mark. “I’m proud to be your son, Father.”

“As you should be,” Voldemort said. “Now, it is late, and we shall discuss more in the morning. Until then, however,” he turned and looked down. Harry’s gaze followed as he heard a hiss and heavy slithering. A snake as thick as his arm appeared and coiled around the Dark Lord before slithering to Harry. “Nagini will keep watch over you.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, “understandable.”

 _“Show my son his room,”_ Voldemort hissed. Nagini nodded silently and coiled around Harry’s legs before moving on. Harry followed her, giving his father a final glance.

Nagini led Harry through the old manor, up a dusty staircase that led to a corridor with a single room. It was surprisingly clean, with emerald silk covers for the bed, a full wardrobe and vanity table, and a desk for reading as well as a couple lounging chairs. Harry sighed and moved to this bed, kicking off his shoes and looking at Nagini. _“You will be here all night?”_ he asked her.

 _“Yes,”_ the snake hissed.

“Figures,” Harry sighed. “Then good night, I guess.” He took off his glasses and tried to get as comfortable as he could. He fell asleep surprisingly easily, having a dreamless rest.

The next morning Harry woke up early and feeling refreshed. He smiled and rolled out of his bed, taking off his robes as he moved to a window, opening it. The early morning sunlight filtered through and Harry looked out over the grounds of Riddle Manor. It was overrun with hedges and grass growing out of control without years of maintenance. He looked down and saw ivy that started to grow long the walls. In the distance, surrounded by old knotted trees, was a collapsed shack that looked to be taken over by nature. Harry turned only to see Nagini sitting on his bed, staring at him curiously.

“Good morning,” Harry smiled, “would my father mind if I cook him breakfast? Surely he doesn’t have house elves here.” He giggled to himself and went to what he hoped was the bathroom. Nagini followed, but Harry did not think to argue to the snake about privacy. Instead, he focused on cleaning himself and getting ready for the day. Freshly showered, he looked through the drawers of his dressers and wardrobes only to see that they were all empty. With nothing else to wear, Harry dressed in his school uniform and went downstairs, Nagini following him.

The kitchen looked to be barely used, with everything having years’ worth of dust and grime. Harry sighed and turned on the sink, praying for running water and gave a sigh of relief when hot clean water burst through. According to his watch, it was only five thirty, plenty of time, he assumed, and started to wash everything with Nagini watching him. As he cleaned the dishes, he turned to set the small table that was in the kitchen. First, he made sure that his place was properly set before starting with his father. He turned to Nagini and frowned, _“I know you’re supposed to be watching me, but can you do me a favor? I want to make sure that there aren’t any rats or creatures under the oven that can block it. Can you check for me?”_ he asked. Nagini stared at him for a long moment before giving a nod and slithered towards the oven. With the snake gone, Harry smirked and took out the vial of poison from his pocket. He took his father’s mug and cleaned it thoroughly before taking the poison and dripping it along the rim and insides of the mug, making sure that it has an even coating. When he was done, he pocketed the vial and placed his father’s mug on the table just as the Dark Lord walked in.

“Harry, what are you thinking?” he demanded.

Harry stopped and smiled shyly at his father, “I wanted to show you how thankful I am for giving you a second chance father, so I decided to cook you breakfast.”

“Oh, are you? With what food?” Voldemort asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Food is no problem! Mrs. Weasley taught me a spell that can easily restock pantries. That is, if I can have my wand back for a moment, please,” Harry said.

Voldemort stared hard at Harry and their eyes met. Harry felt the familiar pinch in his head, and remembered Mrs. Weasley teaching him household spells. Voldemort seemed satisfied and nodded, pulling out Harry’s wand and giving it to the boy. “Just the one spell, Harry,” he warned.

“Yes father,” Harry said. He looked at the pantry and with a couple swishes, their doors all flew upon and they were suddenly full of food. Even the old icebox had food and drinks, all perfectly chilled and preserved. Harry used his wand one more time to turn the oven on as Nagini slithered out from under it. _“There are no mice in there, little one,”_ she hissed.

 _“Thank you,”_ Harry smiled, and he gave Voldemort back his wand. “Father, would you prefer tea or coffee today?” he asked.

“Coffee.”

Harry nodded and immediately started cooking, starting with the coffee. Voldemort sat back and watched both amused and highly curious. Harry made sure that the coffee was ready first and poured his own father a cup before filling his own. Harry glanced at Voldemort to see that the man did not touch his cup at all yet, his dark eyes still on him. Harry brought his cup with him to the oven and sipped casually from it as he cooked. Voldemort watched, Harry could see his mind working behind his eyes, before he reached for his own mug of coffee and took a cautious sip before taking a larger one. He snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared with a copy of the _Daily Prophet._

It was almost comical in Harry’s mind, at how mundane the scene was. The Dark Lord reading the newspaper as he drank coffee, and his son, Harry Potter, cooking him breakfast. He made eggs first, before frying up bacon and asking his father if it was okay to give Nagini some pieces of raw bacon. When he was done, a full breakfast spread was laid out on the table, and Harry served his father first before filling his plate himself and began eating. He noticed his father watching him, judging silently. Harry placed his fork down and took a sip of his coffee, frowning, “The food isn’t poisoned,” he said softly, “you know that I wouldn’t dare to poison you father. You’re my only family.”

Voldemort stared at him, “You are right, I am,” he said. “Still, before I eat, you shall sample everything on my plate.”

“Yes father,” Harry sigh, knowing it would be better to just go along with it. He sampled everyone on Voldemort’s plate, taking small bites before returning to his plate. Satisfied with this, Voldemort started to eat. The two ate in silence, the quietness only breaking when Tom’s coffee mug emptied, and Harry asked his father if he would like more. When they were done, Harry looked at his father and said, “Father, I want to know… when can you send me on missions?”

“Missions? For what purpose?” Voldemort sneered. “The prophecy? Oh no, forget about the prophecy.”

“Forget about it?” Harry frowned, “but why—”

“I have learned of a new weapon, a more powerful weapon. A wand that is stronger than all wands that were ever made,” Voldemort said. He looked down at Harry, amused when he saw a look of wonder in his son’s eyes. “I will tell you more in time, but before that, it is time to resume your training.”

“My training?” Harry asked.

“Yes Harry, your time in Hogwarts has clearly made you grow soft,” Voldemort said. “So in your time of isolation, we shall resume your training in the Dark Arts.”

Harry nodded, it would be better, he assumed, then doing nothing. “What about cleaning?” he asked.

“We have house-elves Harry, let them serve their purpose,” Voldemort said, snapping his fingers. House-elves appeared with a loud crack and silently began cleaning up. Voldemort stood up and walked away, Harry following him.

Voldemort led him to a door that opened to stairs leading downstairs. “I still want to make you breakfast everyday father,” Harry said. “It’s practice, for my life with Draco.”

Voldemort agreed to that and led Harry downstairs. The basement was more of a torture chamber. There were small iron cells against the walls with shackles and bare beds with small points on them. Large tools of unknown purposes hung on the wall opposite, and Harry saw that there were already a couple muggles cowering in the cells, their bodies dirtied as they wore only rags. “We have done all we could with practice dummies, my son,” Voldemort said coldly, unemotionally, as he moved to a cell. “Now, we shall work with live subjects.”

Harry spent the day practicing the Cruciatus Curse. In the beginning, he flinched every time the muggles screamed but as the day went on, the screamed started to deafen to him, they became less and less important. He had the rage needed for the spell, Harry found that it was easier to find it, easier to be angry and fuel his magic with it. By the end of the day, he was tired from casting the curse constantly and the two muggles where laying on the floor, twitching and convulsing as they muttered madness.

Voldemort patted Harry’s shoulder, and they left. It was late, Harry realized they practiced through lunch, and after a short dinner the House-elves made them, Voldemort led Harry once more to the reading room where Harry first entered. “Here,” Voldemort handed Harry a book titled _The Beedle and Bard_. Harry looked at it for a moment.

“This is a children’s book,” Harry said.

“And it holds legends that the wizarding world grew up with, legends that both of us, Harry, missed out on,” Voldemort explained. “The weapon I have mentioned this morning is contained in one of the stories in that book. If you are so keen to be given a mission, here it is. Study the book and tell me what I am looking for.”

Harry nodded and moved to a chair by the fire. He got comfortable, pulling his legs in, and started to read. He was surprised that he lost himself in the book and it’s stories. He finished the first three and looked up to see that he was alone in the room, with only Nagini staring at him. He sighed and marked his place in the book before looking down at Nagini. “First day home done,” he said.

.

The second day was a repeat of the first with Harry making breakfast for his father and him before the two went downstairs for Harry to practice the Dark Arts. Harry noticed that it was different muggles today, younger, and did not want to question where the other two went. By the end of the day he was sweating and looked at his father before pointing his wand at the younger of the two muggles. _“Avada Kedavra.”_ The Killing Curse moved casually, just as it was said, and the muggle died while the other stared, too broken to scream or cry.

“Why did you kill the muggle?” Voldemort asked. They were in the reading room once more, Harry was reading his book, just starting a story called “The Tale of the Three Brothers.”

Harry looked up and frowned, “He was going to die anyway,” he said, shrugging. “I didn’t want him to suffer needlessly.”

“Then why leave the other alive?” Voldemort asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He was younger, the older muggle could handle it,” Harry said. Voldemort did not comment. He just stare at his son as the boy went back to reading. It was almost midnight and Voldemort retired for the night, leaving Harry in the care of Nagini. Harry looked up momentarily to see that his father left. He looked down at Nagini and smiled. _“You can have a better view of watching me if you stay on my lap,”_ he hissed. He put his book to the side and bent down, extending his arm. Nagini’s tongue flicked at his fingers, and Harry smiled. “Come on,” he said in English.

Nagini was heavier than Harry thought as the snake slowly coiled around his arm, making her way up. He grunted and flexed his muscles as he did his best to support Nagini. The snake moved unnerving, slithering around Harry’s arm and neck only to plop down onto his lap. Harry gave a sigh and shook his arm. _“You’re heavier than you look,”_ he smiled teasingly. Nagini hissed in annoyance, which Harry laughed at. _“I’m only joking, relax. Here, why don’t I read to you for a bit?”_

Harry held the book in one hand as he slowly petted Nagini with his other, the feel of her cold scales cooling his hot fingers. He read in parseltongue, taking his time as the words hissed out naturally. He looked down every now and again, petting the snake and making sure she was paying attention before continuing. He was sleepy as he finished, and he gently placed the book down before gathering Nagini in his arms. _“Must be cold watching me,”_ he hissed softly as he carried her to his room, _“would you like to sleep in my bed with me?”_

 _“Yes,”_ Nagini replied. Harry smiled. He tucked her into his bed when he reached his bedroom and changed out of his robe before getting in himself.

_“Would father be angry that you’re sleeping with me?”_

_“No, Master would be happy,”_ Nagini hissed.

 _“Good,”_ Harry hummed, and he drifted off to sleep.

On Monday, Harry felt extra affectionate towards Nagini. He carried her around the home, even downstairs, and when his father gave him permission, Harry made sure to give Nagini treats during his training. When they retired to the reading room, Harry looked at his father, “I’ve finished the book, you want the Elder Wand, don’t you?” he asked. “The wand talked about in the last story.”

“Indeed, I do,” Voldemort nodded, “however I haven’t begun to trace the wand’s history. To do so I first need to prove the three brothers’ existence, which is troublesome.”

“I can help,” Harry offered.”

Voldemort looked at Harry and gave a soft smile. Harry wondered if that was the first time his father has ever smiled. “Thank you Harry,” he said, “that is exactly what I’ve planned for. We can start tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Tomorrow.” He spent the night petting Nagini, content in her affection and presence as his father was lost in a book. Voldemort stood up and froze for a moment. He took a half step cautiously and stepped back, frowning. “Father, are you okay?” Harry asked, full of concern.

“Just tired, I will see you in the morning, my son,” Voldemort muttered.

“Goodnight,” Harry smiled.

That night was the first night Harry dreamed. It was wonderful needy dream. He and Draco were alone, naked. Draco was inside him, moving quickly as both husbands were lost in a moment of pure lust. Harry begged for more, pleading the Malfoy to fill him, and just before both boys reached their climax—Harry woke up.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered and glanced at Nagini who was still sleeping. He was still hard, very hard, and moved as quietly as he could to the bathroom where he took care of himself, reaching the climax that the dream denied him. He licked himself clean, liking the taste, and moved to the sink to wash up. “Day three,” He told himself as he stared in the mirror. “It’s all over.” He stared at he mirror and forced himself to push down his emotions until he smiled like the perfect son of Lord Voldemort. He showered, dressed in his school robes once more, and laughed at Nagini. “You are a lazy snake,” he smiled, moving to the bed. He sat down as his hand moved to his pocket. “Come on Nagini,” he said, patting his lap with his free hand. _“I have a special gift for you this morning, don’t tell my father,”_ he hissed.

 _“What is it little one?”_ Nagini yawned. She slithered onto Harry’s lap, where he rested, looking relaxed, content and completely vulnerable.

 _“A gift that I brought from Hogwarts just for you because I know a secret. You are just like me… you hold a piece of my father’s soul. The only difference, however, is that I consumed it.”_ He stabbed the snake’s head with the basilisk’s fang, driving the tooth fully through her head. Nagini hissed angrily, her body writhing and tossed around to try and be free. Harry pushed the snake off of his lap and watched as the Horcrux died. “I think it’s time to check on my father,” he said.

Harry went to the kitchen and waited. Just as he expected, his father walked in, looking pale and weak. “Good morning,” Harry said. The Dark Lord stared at him, and Harry’s smile turned cold. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an empty vial. Realization dawned on Voldemort. He sank to his chair. “Has it been three days?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

Voldemort gave a slow chuckle. “And what will you do after? Run to Dumbledore?”

“No,” Harry said, “I will take up my father’s duty, and become the Dark Lord. However, I think I’ll try a different method from yours.”

Voldemort chuckled again. “In the end, I’ve still won. I took the Light’s shining beacon and groomed him into a Dark Lord.”

“And you will die,” Harry said, “once all of your Horcruxes are gone your soul will have nowhere to run. You will fizzle out of existence.” He turned and pocketed the vial before pouring himself tea. He glanced behind him and saw that the Dark Lord was not moving, a cold, amused smile gracing his face.

“Goodbye father. … Thank you.”


	14. Dark Lord Harry

Chapter 14

Dark Lord Harry

Harry waited until breakfast was over before he summoned Lucius Malfoy, making sure that he looked distraught when his father-in-law arrived. “Potter, what is the meaning of—”

Harry looked up at him sorrowfully, his cheeks red and wet. “Why aren’t you in school—what happened?”

Harry sniffled and stepped back from Lucius Malfoy. “The kitchen,” he said softly, pointing towards it. Malfoy frowned momentarily and took a cautious step. Harry followed him at a distance. The two reached the doorway to the kitchen, and Malfoy pushed the door slowly, gasping in horror when he saw Voldemort’s lifeless body. “What happened?” he demanded, turning to Harry, any sadness or grief turning into rage.

Harry stood his ground, but still looked sad. “I was cooking his breakfast, like I’ve always done. We were talking but then I realized that he wasn’t responding. I thought that the paper came but when I turned around, I saw my father… our Dark Lord. …”

“This is horrible,” Lucius muttered. “This is devastating. Everything we worked for, the years of suffering—over.”

“No, it isn’t,” Harry said. He cleared his throat and said in a more confident voice, “I am Lord Voldemort’s son. His blood runs through my veins as does his character. I know his plans, I know what he wants, and I will see them through.”

“You? Potter you are a child—”

“I am your son-in-law, as well as your Dark Lord,” Harry corrected. “Even though I married Draco as his submissive, does not mean that I am weak, Lucius. Understand when I say that I am only submissive to Draco. No one else. My name is Harry James Potter-Malfoy, and I will not allow anyone to second guess my commands. Is that understood?”

Mr. Malfoy stared at Harry, his stoic expression breaking for a sly smile, “Perfectly, my lord,” he said, and he fell to his knees in front of Harry. Harry smiled.

“Good, now we have to prepared. I came here to make amends with my father, which we have. In his eyes, I am fully forgiven for my stunt I pulled at Draco and my wedding. I do not care nor need any of the other Death Eater’s approval, only yours.” He looked up at Mr. Malfoy, “Do I have it, father?”

“You do,” Mr. Malfoy said after a moment’s pause.

“Excellent, now I need a meeting with Voldemort’s followers, however,” he turned to the body. “I need your elves to make a proper grave for the Dark Lord. Here, on these grounds.”

“It shall be done at once,” Mr. Malfoy said. He snapped his fingers and a dozen house-elves appeared. “You are to made a grave fitting for the Dark Lord,” He commanded.

“And make this home fit enough to live in,” Harry added. “This was my father’s ancestral home, and so it is now mine.” The house-elves bowed and began setting to work. Harry and Mr. Malfoy moved away from the kitchens and went into a large dining room.

“This place will do,” Harry said, looking around. “We will convert this to the meeting room. Get rid of the chairs and table, and have my throne, my father’s old throne, right at the top. He pointed to the end of the long room.

“Excellent decision,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“I will also need more fitting robes, obviously my school robes will not do at all,” Harry jested, pointing to his Gryffindor crest.

“Narcissa will be more than happy to deal with that,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“Good, which just leaves one more thing,” Harry said. He turned to the table and summoned paper and a quill. He quickly wrote a letter and turned to Mr. Malfoy, “you send letters to Draco daily, right?” Mr. Malfoy nodded. “Can you add this with your letters? Please?”

“Of course,” Mr. Malfoy whispered, and he bowed before saying that he will be back. Left alone with the house-elves, Harry returned to the kitchen and rummaged through his father’s pockets, pulling out his wand along with Voldemort’s, along with a scroll that had a list of names. “Peverell?” he muttered, reading the first name that had a question mark.

He disregarded it and pocketed all three. He could study the scroll later. The day was spent in a flurry of chores. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy appeared help make sure everything was perfect for tonight. Mr. Malfoy ordered and managed the house-elves while Mrs. Malfoy tugged Harry away, treating him more like a young son than a dark lord, to work on his hair and clothing. Harry felt comforted by it, she reminded him of Mrs. Weasley in a way. His hair was almost impossible to tame, refusing to obey any laws of gravity or comb. Giving up on taming it down, Mrs. Weasley spent hours styling it so that, though messy, it had a regal air to it.

His robes for the meeting were black, a pure black that had no fading spots or hints of grey. As Harry tried it on, he was amazed, it was as though he was wearing shadows itself. Mrs. Malfoy trimmed and fitted the robes until it fitted perfectly. Harry kept the hood off and amused himself as he glanced back, the robe was a little longer, so he had a slight train, which billowed slightly at his command.

Harry moved to the old dining room to see that everything was moving at a fine pace. The long table was gone, along with the chairs. It looked darker now, the torches’ flames soft and the fireplace cold. At the end of the room was a tall chair adorned with emeralds and carvings of snakes. He walked towards it and admired the chair, his fingers brushing along the woodwork. He smiled and turned to see Mr. Malfoy watching him. “One is fine for now, but after Draco and I graduate I want another, just as grand and wonderful as this one, for him.”

Pride shone through Mr. Malfoy’s eyes, “Of course,” he said, “I will have the best people I know craft it.”

“Good,” Harry said. He helped dim the lanterns so that their fires were barely alive and enchanted the fire so that it burned a bright blue.

Night was falling, and Harry was ready. He looked at Narcissa and gave a kind smile, “I’m sorry Mother,” he said, shocking her, “but this meeting is only for my father’s marked followers.”

Mrs. Malfoy nodded and gave a stiff bow before walking outside. Harry turned to Mr. Malfoy and held out his hand, “Your arm.”

Mr. Malfoy presented his Dark Mark, and Harry took Voldemort’s wand, pressing it against the mark as he thought, _All of the Death Eaters. Everyone but Snape. Bring them here. Everyone but Snape._

Pain shot through his own mark, and Mr. Malfoy gritted his teeth as their marks burned black. Harry watched as one by one they appeared before him, apparating into the room in their dark robes, looking around for their Lord. Harry’s eyes fell upon the crowd, making sure that it worked as he intended. Among the sea of Death Eaters, there was no oily black hair, no hooked no, no consistent sneer. Severus Snape was not part of those who gathered. He smirked at this and motioned for Mr. Malfoy to step away.

“Friends,” he began, “we gather on a sad and triumphant note.” The crowd of Death Eaters grew quiet, all turning to stare at Harry. “This morning, my father, our Dark Lord, died. He has gone beyond any mortal man to escape death, however in the end, Death had a way of claiming him back. However, though the Dark Lord is gone, his mission, his morals and values will live on. I have succeeded my father; I am your new Dark Lord.”

“Lies!” a voice yelled out. “Lies! Get off our master’s chair you filthy half-blood!” Harry saw people being pushed out of the way, and Bellatrix Lestrange shoved her way to the front, her wand aimed directly at Harry.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Bellatrix,” he purred in a practiced cold voice, “you refuse your master’s wishes?”

“You are lying,” Bellatrix seethed, “our master is not dead—and you will never be our master!”

“So, you refuse to listen?” Harry asked.

“Of course, you disgusting half-blood!” Lestrange yelled.

“Shame,” Harry sighed. He did not move from his chair. There was no fancy wand movement. He simply pointed his wand at Bellatrix Lestrange and cried out, _“Avada Kedavra!”_ Bellatrix Lestrange could not defend herself as the Killing Curse struck her, and she fell dead. “There are two other Lestrange members, correct?” Harry asked. “Rabastan, Rodolphus. Step up.”

The Death Eaters around him muttered cautiously but nobody moved. Harry’s temper and patience died quickly, “Now!” he yelled.

There was a jump, and people quickly moved out of the way, some hands pushing two men up towards Harry. They glanced at Bellatrix’s body and whimpered, one of them suppressing a sob. “Now, was that so hard?” Harry chuckled. “You both have access to the Lestrange vault, I take it?”

“Y-Yes,” one muttered. “Er—my lord,” he added quickly. Harry raised his eyebrow and pointed his wand at the one who talked.

“Which one is you?” he asked.

“Rabastan, my lord,” the man said, quickly getting to his hands and knees.

“Are you the one who married Bellatrix?” Harry asked.

“No, that would be my brother,” Rabastan said.

“S-She’s my wife,” Rodolphus said, getting to his knees.

“Oh, I see,” Harry nodded. _“Avada Kedavra.”_ Rodolphus fell lifeless, landing next to his wife. Harry smirked at the appearance of the two lovely dead couple and turned to the remaining Lestrange. “I only need one Lestrange to do my request. You will find a cup in your vault. Small and gold with two handles and a beaver engraved on it. You will go and fetch it for me.”

“Y-Yes my Lord—thank you my lord,” Rabastan stuttered. He crawled up to Harry’s throne and kissed his feet before crawling back.

“My Lord,” Mr. Malfoy stepped up, “may I ask, what is the significant of this cup?”

Harry nodded, “I’ll allow it. My father has left many treasures, mementos of his life. This cup is one of them. I want them all brought to me. These are my father’s precious things, he cared for them as though they were his own life. They will be enchanted, of course, dangerously so. However, I am not afraid to lose any one of you if it means bringing them back where they belong.”

Harry allowed the underlining threat to hover in the air, drawing out any tension until he had everyone’s attention and submission. “This will also be seen as a test of loyalty. With that said, let me see, ah, Gibbon, there is a shack at the edge of the property. Somewhere there, there is hidden a ring with a black stone. The ring is gold. Bring it to me, but do not wear it. You may slip it on only in front of me. Just to make sure it is safe for me to wear. Where are the Carrow twins? Ah, there you are. There is a locket, hidden in a cave by a seaside town near London. I must imagine the cave will be filled Dark Creatures and Magic to protect my father’s precious locket. So bring Dolohov with you. The locket is golden with a serpentine ‘S’ on it’s face. Let me think, there is one more…” Harry paused before shaking his head slowly, “This one I will obtain myself. Now, just to be clear…” Harry stood up from his throne and stepped towards the group, his wand in his hand. He stopped in front of the two Lestrange bodies. “I do not care if you die during this. If you do, that will be seen as a show of disloyalty to myself and my departed father. And any disloyalty, even disloyalty in thoughts, will be met with fatal consequences.”

He glared at them all and moved back to his throne. “One more thing, I want any and all information on who Peverell is, along with any information and whispers about the Elder Wand. That is all, now clean away the bodies.” He waved his hand dismissively. Crabbe and Goyle ran up the bodies, bowing first to Harry, and dragged them away. One by one, the Death Eaters stepped up to Harry, kissing his feet and hand before leaving until it was just himself and Mr. Malfoy.

“Why would you want to know about the Elder Wand? It is a fairy tale,” Mr. Malfoy asked.

“That was the last thing my father was researching. If it exists, it will have tremendous power,” Harry explained. “I want that power for myself. Now, if you would, I have a private visitor coming.”

“Of course, my lord,” Mr. Malfoy said. He bowed left. Harry sighed and got off his throne, stepping to the side and going to his knees.

“I hope you like the throne, Sir,” the said as the shadows crept in. Draco Malfoy walked through the shadows, smirking down at Harry. “It will do.”

“We never really finished our wedding night,” Harry suggested, looking up at Draco smiling, “why don’t we finish it on the chair?”

Draco laughed and stepped up to the throne, slowly shedding off his clothes as he did, revealing his large, hard cock. He sat down and glanced down at Harry. “Well my Dark Lord,” he purred, “don’t you have your allegiance to show?”

“Yes sir,” Harry whispered. He started to take off his robe.

“The robe stays on,” Draco commanded. “Everything underneath, goes off.” They shared a lewd smirk and Draco watched as his dark pet stripped for him, opening his robe so that it turned into a cloak that revealed his naked body. “Ride me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry purred. He stepped up to Draco and held Draco’s cock as he aimed it at his hole. Draco whispered a lubing spell, and Harry lowered himself, hissing at the painful intrusion. Draco rubbed his butt soothingly.

“We did it love,” Draco whispered, “everything we planned is coming together.”

“Yeah,” Harry groaned. He reached the base of Draco’s cock and held onto him tightly, sitting as his hole expanded to get used to the girth. “Everything. Let’s end this war.”

They spent the night together on the chair, marking every inch they could as theirs as Draco filled Harry over and over again with his seed. Harry did not know what the future will bring, he did not know how the Light will react, how Dumbledore will react when they find out Voldemort is dead only for Harry to take his place. However, as he rubbed his sore and gapped hole, Harry knew that he will always have his husband by his side, and with Draco next to him, he will never regret anything that they do together.

**END**


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